Breaking Hearts and Wild Riches
by Noire Ballerina
Summary: It's what the Upper East Side is all about - stomping hearts, abusing power, keeping affairs behind deadbolt doors. Will Bryn Blackwell realize it's not all about cigarettes and music in life? She better prepare for one rocky road ahead of her.
1. Chapter 1

_Earlier_

Bryn Blackwell sat on the closed toilet seat of the bathroom with her cosmetics bag and old kitchen scissors, breathed smoke from her glossed lips, and sighed into the rank air. She lifts a dark brown lock to her eyes and holds it in the blades, cutting until the messy tufts linger midway to her throat. She snags more hair into her knuckles and continues to trim. Tosses her cigarette down the sink drain, stares at her reflection, and tries to fight a smile as the pile of hair begins to fill the whiteness of the tiles.

Her BlackBerry vibrated on the sink counter and she retrieved it, grabbing another cigarette and sticking it to her mouth. She glared at her phone to find a new text from her fraternal twin brother, Harper Blackwell. It read: _im bringin tom _&_ alex over_._ clean up_, _k_?

Bryn smiled and doesn't stop to answer. They'd all be just in time to witness her new look, a new her. To show that damned cheater of a boyfriend she was over him.

She brushed shaggy strands from her face, unzipped her makeup bag, and salvaged an inky black eyeliner from inside, winging it along her eyelids and thickening both with color. Bryn shut an eye to observe her handiwork. "This looks _sick_."

Before leaving the bathroom, she opened the toilet and tossed the cigarette in the bowl, flushing it to hide her evidence. Returned her pack of Camels to her bag and stood in the hallway. A maid, mid-step, stopped for her.

"May I help with anything, Miss Blackwell?" she asked politely, ducking her head respectively.

Bryn nodded and smiled as the maid raised a skeptical brow at her rugged look. "Yeah, actually. Spray the bathroom and toss the hair on the floor. Harper and his friends are coming soon. I don't need to hear his bitchin'."

The maid nodded and jogged for the supply closet.

Bryn returned to her room, still in her pajamas, which consisted of a dingy Rolling Stones T-shirt and shorts that grazed her thighs.

She slammed her bedroom door and checked herself in the mirror. David Bowie and Joan Jett posters hung on the walls behind it like the leaders of her own nation. She smoothed her hair back and mussed it. "I'm going to be Joan one day." she promised herself. "Definitely."

The front door banged angrily and Harper's scream of "I'm home!" reverberated through their mansion. Bryn left her room and descended the stairs to reach her brother. His best friends, Alex West and Tom Mallick at his sides, boyishly attractive and still in their uniforms. What confused her was the girl beside her brother.

Harper never needed hair products for his own locks which made Bryn jealous to no end. It was naturally beach-ready with the lightest of sun-bleached streaks. Their only similarity was their blue eyes and a nervous tendency to bite their nails. Freckles stained his tan skin and his partially-visible muscles.

He grabbed his sister in a warm embrace and swung her in a full circle, smile never fading as he set her down. "You can't cut hair for life."

Bryn smirked. "Thanks," She turned to the blonde girl – a pretty girl like Georgia May Jagger on _Harper_'_s Bazaar_. The only magazine she ever brought with the exception of _Rolling Stone_. "Harper, who's she?"

His grin broadened and Bryn sifted her pockets for a cigarette. "_She_ is Tinsley." he announced, holding out a hand to Tinsley. She had blonde waves and green irises, was slender and tall – not as tall as Harper – and had a Caribbean tan. She looked like a non-trashy version of Kate Moss. Clad in a graphic tee with jeans, cowboy-esque paddock boots, and brown feather earrings with shiny pink lip gloss.

Bryn's smirk weakened. "Nice to meet ya, Trina."

Tinsley frowned and Harper allowed Bryn the same thing. "Um, it's Tinsley …" She smiled too brightly. "but, it's a pleasure to meet you, too."

Harper nudged her ribs and led his guy-friends upstairs. "Hey, guys, let's go play PS3. The new Halo is _wicked_."

Tom nodded. "Hell yeah, man!"

Harper turned back to them. "Why don't you two spend some quality time? Get to know each other. I'll talk to you in a little, Bryn." His eyes narrow. "Alone."

Bryn grinned rudely as she waved Harper and his friends away. "Have fun, guys!"

Harper gave her a retreating glance before heading off. Bryn's grin ultimately dropped once they were gone and she turned to Tinsley with dark eyes. "Anyway," Bryn wrings her fingers. "you like my brother, he likes you. I see it already, he doesn't let anyone come meet me." She steps closer to the confused Tinsley. "Lemme say, you will not date him as long as I'm around. My brother's heart has been broken countless times by losers like you." She shakes her head and grins evilly. "Let's just say. If it does happen, I won't be a happy camper."

Tinsley opened her mouth to speak. "I –"

Bryn cut her off before she's allowed more. "_I_'_d_ be happy to not oblige, Bryn." She slips the cigarette from her lips and extinguishes it on Tinsley's shoulder, stomping away. "Let that be a warning, sweets. A warning."

She ditched Tinsley with a smirk.

_Uh_-_oh_! _More than fireworks are sparking between Rocker B and Sweet T behind H_'_s back_._ Anyone care to watch_?

**X**

**And that concludes the first chapter of my first Gossip Girl OC story. Tell me what you think of the mysterious blogger and Bryn. Because they will all appear more often.**

**Tinsley belongs to the lovely GossipQueen101.  
Harper and Bryn belong to me.  
The rights to the Gossip Girl series belong to Cecily. **


	2. Chapter 2

"_Hello_,_ daddy_! _Hello_,_ mom_, _I_'_m your ch_-_ch_-_ch_-_ch_-_ch_-_cherry bomb_!" Bryn twirls the microphone cord through her fingers. Angry drums and guitar riffs thundered over her shoulder. "_Hello world_,_ I_'_m your wild girl_! _I_'_m your ch_-_ch_-_ch_-_ch_-_cherry bomb_!" She winds the cable around her ankles and watches her bassist rip her fingers across cords.

"Bryn," Harper calls, descending the creaking stairs of the basement. No one really came down here except for Bryn and her band, The Heartbreakers. So they never really bothered to fix the squeaks in the stairs because Bryn often said she didn't want them repaired because it brought back memories. Like the stairs meant something to her.

Memories was code for getting drunk, falling down the stairs, and rendering an opening in the wall with a stiletto heel. You would think this only happened once but it hasn't. This memory has repeated itself many, _many _times.

It gave the technician a good laugh.

"_Stone age love and strange sounds_,_ too_._ Come on_,_ baby_, _let me get to you_!_ Bad nights causin_'_ teenage blues_._ Get down ladies you_'_ve got –_" Before Bryn could finish, Harper went over and unplugged her guitarist's amp. The boisterous notes became lifeless. Bryn went to uncoil the wire from her legs and turn to Harper with rutted brows.

"What the hell, Harper?" his sister demands and lowers her mike to the floor. "We're practicing."

The drummer rises from behind her drum-kit, setting down her drumsticks. "Yeah, man," the girl agrees, deep-set green eyes pooling with mild anger. "Totally uncool. We were working on a demo to send to Blackheart Records and you totally fucked it up."

Of course, Joan Jett's record company.

Harper turns to her and drops the amplifier. "Sorry," he apologizes with little sincerity. "but I had to get my sister's attention. Do you three mind leaving for a few? I'd like to speak to my sister alone."

The guitarist grins toothily at Harper. "Sure! We won't stop ya."

Harper smiled gratefully at the girl. "Thanks, Lina."

The others left in silence, leaving Harper and Bryn alone. This gave her anxiety. Whenever he wanted to talk to her _alone_ always meant she'd done something wrong. Breaking their neighbor's window, accidentally setting a dishtowel on fire. He would definitely bring up the stubbing of her cigarette on Tinsley's shoulder any second now.

"Bryn," he begins, flecking question like darts. "did you do something to Tinsley?"

Bryn blinks and seethes invisibly.

The bitch ratted her out.

"No." Bryn advises. She was a wonderful liar. But sometimes, Harper could see through her façade. Her lies varied from bad report cards to parking tickets that she charged to their father's Visa. "Why would I do something to her? I barely know her."

Harper taps his sneaker sole on the carpet. "You tend to do things to girls I bring home and she even told me you did something peculiar."

"And you believe her?" she quips, reaching for a cigarette in her time of need. "Thanks a lot, Harper. Take her side when you've only known her twenty minutes and me your whole life."

Before she could have a chance to light, he took it out of her mouth and tossed it into a wastebasket, his aim unusually off. "Tell me the truth, Bryn. I know you." He ignores her previous comment but by his scowl, it was obvious he'd heard it. "Come on. What is it?"

She surrenders despite herself. Cat and mouse was only fun for so long. "Fine, I stubbed my cigarette on her shoulder. No harm, no foul."

"Bryn!" Harper scolds, breaking the distance between them and grabbing her shoulders steadfastly. "How could you? You weren't supposed to do something like that! She could've gotten hurt!"

Bryn knowingly smirks. "But she didn't."

Harper sighs, knocks her cigarettes off a loudspeaker, and glares at her. A smirk falls to his face, something she prized. He looked so much like her with it. "You know what? You aren't going to play at Rodney's tonight or for the next three weeks. I'm tired of you disobeying everything I say. I'm grounding you."

Bryn blinks and curses him under her breath. "You can't do that, Harper! We spent weeks – even, _months_ trying to get booked there! Only Dad can ground me! You can't!" She was desperate. She almost considered getting down on her knees and begging.

_No_. Joan or Lita Ford would never so neither would she.

"I _can _do that." Harper advises, smirk vanishing. "I'm older and you still need discipline. Go tell your band you can't go. I'm sure they can find a replacement."

Bryn felt her vision blur and her eyes flood with tears. "I hate you!" she howls, shaking off his hands and startling away. "I hate you so much! Just get out!" She felt tears drip off her chin. At her words, Harper frowns but leaves the room.

Her bandmates came back to Bryn, tears of fury searing her face and her chest pumping. Her bassist, Floria, pats her shoulders and hugs her. "It's okay, little rock. If you can't go, we won't go." She combs sweat-matted hair off Bryn's forehead with her fingers and smiles. "don't freak over it."

Bryn wipes her tears. "No." she replies, senses reoccurring and the heaviness of her heart popping adrenaline in her veins. "I'm going whether or not he lets me. This is the night of our _lives_!" They cheer and she reclaims her cigarettes. Floria hands her a lighter and Bryn lights, exhaling her plans.

"Flor, lemme borrow your hair dye, okay?" Bryn asks, a devious smile crossing her face. "It'll surely go to good use."

**X**

Harper saunters through the threshold, hands in his pockets. What had he _done_? He'd casually argue with Bryn over little things but she never said she hated him. She'd always say she was too cool for _hate_ and would replace it. It stung especially when he saw her tears. He passes a maid, who scurries into the kitchen with a broom and dustpan, silver-blonde tresses in a lacy black cap.

She peered over her shoulder with a smile. "Evening, sir,"

Was it evening already? The Heartbreakers show was tonight. He had to get ready even though he no longer had anyone to go with. Tom and Alex were going to a Yankees game and if he asked Tinsley, she'd probably laugh and never look at him the same and just think of him as the "lowly guy who parties day and night."

Talk about embarrassing.

Maybe Tinsley had a boyfriend or a date for tonight. She could be going with someone else even more attractive and sporty and personality-wise.

But she seemed better than that. She wouldn't just call him crude and deny him.

Would she?

He enters the living room and slumps on the couch beside Tinsley. She smiles, emerald eyes alight, and tilts her head. "You okay?" Her smile drops. "You look sad."

Harper shook his head. "Don't worry about it …"

More mental feuds. He digs his nails in his thigh before turning to Tinsley. "Um," he begins, looking into her worried eyes. She blinks and her smile returns. "I, um, would … you like to go out with me tonight?"

Tinsley blinks again, confusion shaping an answer. "That sounds great!" She grins widely. "Where would we go?"

"My sister …" he voices. "was supposed to perform at a club … it's not too far from here. But she won't because of some trouble." He finishes his dispute with disapproval and looks back to Tinsley hopefully. "I always promised that I'd go to all her band's shows so I'm going tonight. Either way, would you like to go with me?"

Did he just say the same thing twice? God, he humiliated himself in front of her. She won't want to go with him now –

Tinsley crosses her legs and leans in. "You know," She bats her eyelashes. "I'd love to."

There was a chance to regain his touch. He narrows his eyes. "I'm glad you hadn't obliged," He raises a brow. "Pick you up at eight?"

She gathers her books in a swoop and jumps to her feet. "See you, then." He watches her go for the door and leave. His heart twisted but he couldn't fight the smile off him.

Harper stands and recognizes his blush when he looks in the mirror nailed to the wall. He notices his tousled hair and reddened face. He looked like the perfect athlete. And with a grin, he completely forgot about the situation between Bryn and him.

However, he was completely oblivious to what was currently arising.

**X**

Bryn sits in her private bathroom, towel on her shoulders. Shaggy hair dyed platinum blonde, feathered and neat and unlike her. She switches on her hairdryer, grabs a brush, and starts to untangle her hair efficiently. She hated doing her hair but was doing it for a good cause.

To save her band. She would never let anything happen to that band. It was her _life_.

Would she need contacts? Harper was sure to go with stupid Tinsley. Why didn't he trust her more? They were related and he believed her over his own sister. What a mega-asshole. But one thought kept crossing her mind. No matter how many thoughts she ever progressed in her sixteen years, this just wouldn't leave her.

Her brother finally grew a backbone.

Floria stands in the doorjamb, dark ringlets in a ponytail, all wisps and tufts. Fake gold jewelry topped her fake blood-stained tee and white denim shorts. She ticks her orange wedge-clad foot with mock-impatience and grins. "You done, Bryn? Your hair looks fine."

As much as Bryn said Harper was a perfectionist, she was more than. Gossip Bee, the local blogger, knew practically _everything _about her life and tended to exploit the happenings of it.

"Almost." Bryn unplugs her hairdryer and shakes her hair out. "Did Harper leave?"

Floria nods. "A while ago, yeah. He's taking Tinsley to our show." She laughs breezily and Bryn smiles, combing her hair again in the mirror. "He thinks you're staying over Mary-Ann's. I'm so glad you're coming so now we won't make a total train wreck of ourselves without you."

Bryn smiles greatly. "Harper will never even recognize me with all this blonde dye in my head." She lifts a feathered lock. "He's not the sharpest tool in the shed."

Floria grins. "Got that right."

A year or two ago, Floria and Harper dated and Bryn attempted to break them up and succeeded. When Floria discovered, she didn't care much but later realized she never really liked him and to this day, she'd add tiny comments on how stupid he was.

Ah, young romance.

Their drummer, Hayden, shouts from Bryn's room. "Come on! We're gonna be late! And I doubt William and Saul will be too happy if we are!"

"We're coming!" She winks at Floria. "Wait 'til you see my stage costume."

Floria rolls her eyes and smiles. "Don't be too risqué. Your brother will kill you if he does recognize you."

Bryn's grin never rots. "Trust me, that'll never happen."

**X**

Harper and Tinsley enter Rodney's. The speakers pump angry rock as skimpily-dressed girls jump on them, shaking their hips suggestively and flashing too much skin. Harper slaps a wad of bills into the bouncer's palm to allow them entrance. Sparkling strobe lights flash colorfully overhead and people flail their arms to the hollering drums. Tinsley smiles at Harper and his heart warms.

_She takes me away to that special place _…_  
And if I_'_d stare too long _…_  
I_'_d probably break down and cry_!

"Oh." Harper gapes as he and Tinsley sift through the crowds for decent seats. A teen with short hair yells into a microphone, a bandana folded across his throat and a sleeveless T-shirt that read _Guns or Roses_? in bold font. "The opening act for Br – my sister's band started."

_Sweet child o_'_ mine  
Sweet love of mine _

Ever since they had met up, Harper refused to bring up Bryn's name so he kept saying everything but it as if it were an expletive.

Poor little guy … not.

Another guy wields an old Stigma and Ray Bans as he strums authoritative cords. Crookedness molds lines on his eyebrows, and a baseball cap covers his rugged hair. Perspiration glistens on his neck as he sunk into the stage lights.

Tinsley laid a hand on Harper's shoulder comfortingly. "It's okay, Harper, don't worry about her. She'll be fine." she reassures, swinging her arms in the air, jangly bangles slinking down her forearms with barely-heard _plinks_. "You know, they sure play good music here."

Harper smiles and nods like he doesn't want to. "Bryn … she loves this music. Loud and violent, I never knew why."

_She_'_s got eyes of the bluest skies  
As if they thought of rain I hate to look into those eyes _…

Behind the drums, a teen conjured rhythm violently. Scruffy blonde hair blocking anyone's view of his amber eyes. Despite this, he never seemed to miss a beat as an adrenaline-singed grin caught his mouth. "Stradlin and Adler seem excited today. I wonder why." Harper muses and watches the singer toss his microphone in the air and catch it lithely.

Tinsley smiles at him. "You know them?"

Harper makes a face. "They're more of Bryn's friends."

_And see an ounce of pain  
Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place  
Where as a child I_'_d hide and pray for the thunder and the rain to quietly pass me by _

Stradlin closes in on a mike and tightens his hands on his guitar as he sings. The lines on his face deepening as he sings the chorus in a heavy, Dee Snider-esque voice.

_Sweet child o_'_ mine  
Sweet love of mine_

_Where do we go  
Where do we go now  
Where do we go _

Stradlin lumbers to Adler as they trade instruments. Stradlin lights a cigarette as he takes the drumsticks and Adler swings the guitar over his shoulders. Stradlin continues to sing into the nearest microphone as he raps messily on the drums.

A flourishing guitar solo entrances from a gleaming red Fender, the dancing and twisting and howling increases on the floor as the clubbers writhe and moan.

_Where do we go  
Where do we go now  
Where do we go _

Adler wheels fierce notes into the smoky air, winding his arms riotously. The singer begins to spin as he twirls his microphone. The dry-ice smoke diminishes as the song finishes. Their audience whoops as the band grins in appreciation except the singer, who stormed offstage in perfect Axl Rose-fashion.

Adler slides off the guitar strap and pounds knuckles in the air. "Guns or Roses, everyone! Guns or Roses!" Hollers and name-calls run wild.

Their main guitarist fled offstage, holding forward the peace sign. Stradlin chuckles and sees their bandana-clad singer beside the wall with a cigarette crushed in his hand, eyes scoping a blonde seated on a speaker. "Hey, aren't you supposed to be performing soon?"

The familiar blonde chokes. "I am."

Stradlin sighs and shakes his head. _Bryn_.

Adler closes in, placing his friend's guitar onto a stand. "Leave Bryn alone, William. Shows at Rodney's are always tough."

Bryn buries her head into her hands as Stradlin returns Adler's drumsticks to him, shoves past William and over to Bryn. "Hey, kid," he greets, ruffles her strangely blonde hair. "You okay?"

She snuffles and nods. "Y-Yeah …"

Adler hides his drumsticks in one of his back-pockets and knelt beside Stradlin. "Damn, kid. What in the name of _hell _are you wearing?"

Stradlin turns to her stage costume: a lace-up corset partnered with bikini-styled underwear, fishnet stockings, and platform pumps. She looked like a stripper rather than a modern-day Suzi Quatro. His eyes widen and frowns crease his forehead. He folds his aviators into his pocket. "God-_fucking_-damn."

Adler smirks. "Are you playing hooker for the day? Because _damn_, Bryn. You look so … so –"

Stradlin glares at him. "Say hot and I'll kill you."

"I would never. I was going for swell."

Steven was Adler's real name as Matt was Stradlin's but while they were performing or just hanging in clubs, they were known as Adler or Stradlin. Stradlin treated Bryn as the younger sister he never wanted, Adler did the same but was slightly more flirtatious.

Bryn bursts into laughter but what made their smiles drop was the tears procuring in her gaze. Stradlin took hold of her shoulders. She opens her eyes and they saw the light of tears in her blue irises. "Seriously, Bryn. What's wrong?"

"Yeah," Adler agreed. "You never cry. So come on, we're like your brothers."

Bryn finally gave and wracked with indifferent sobs. "I'm … I'm scared. I've never performed at Rodney's and I had a fight with my brother … and … and –" Tears leave her eyes and she hangs her head in embarrassment. Slender fingers grab her chin.

"Relax, Bryn." Stradlin assures comfortingly and removes his fingers from her face. "Rodney's concerts are violent but we get used to them. It'll be fine. Don't cry, alright? I've never been good with crying girls."

Bryn thumbs away a tear, pixie blue eyeliner smudging. She kept calm once she saw Adler and Stradlin's coolness. They were all best friends for a reason. "Thanks, Steven … thanks, Matt."

Adler grins. "We're here to help!"

William snorts from behind them. "And he's just here for the looks."

Adler shrugs and agrees with a nod. "Yeah, pretty much."

Rodney arrives backstage at that, girls on each arm. His dark hair brushed over his shoulders and teashades shined from his eyes. The girls nuzzle their faces into his throat as he holds their waists proudly. "Okay, Bryn. Your band is onstage. Be ready soon, doll."

Bryn blinks in realization as Rodney dances off, the women on his arms giggling drunkenly.

Bryn's eyes bug and she bites her trembling lip. "Shit," she whimpers and William mutters something profound that they all ignore. "this is so nerve-wracking." She got off the speaker to see the stage from behind the curtain. Floria and Hayden plug wires, arrange the drums.

Adler pats her shoulder and his hand lingers. "Relax and go onstage. We'll be watching like the losers we are."

Bryn grins, confidence reels through her veins as she spins her heels, waiting at the curtain as Hayden counts off 'Cherry Bomb' – the song she wished she was cool enough to write. Her black hair untamed and green eyes beaming like kaleidoscope patterns. Dressed in a lamé jumpsuit and Bakelite bracelets.

_One _…

She cracks her knuckles and clicks her heels impatiently.

_Two _…

Stradlin reaches to safely deposit his guitar in his bag.

_Three _...

Bryn shut her eyes and felt her lashes tickle her cheekbones.

_Four _…

With a final wave, she struts onstage and reaches the microphone, snatching it swiftly while the crowd roars in appreciation. She had to smirk under the lights and the goggling guys in the audience.

Bryn laughs under the noise as she twists the wires around. Hayden counts off the song before starting it. Floria and Angelina's notes accenting the harmony. Bryn nods to them and her heart twists at seeing the profiles of Tinsley and Harper in the front. She turns away so they won't see her smirk.

And she began, voice cutting through the crowd as she fell to the stage like a wildcat, stretching for the fingertips of the audience. She slams a fist, drags her broken nails along the floor.

She rises and saunters to the opposite end as she mouths the lyrics, passing a clutter of soda cans and paper airplanes. She hurries back toward center-stage. The signal of cymbals commands her pose and she raises the microphone cord high to the crowd.

Floria, mascara streaking her face in navy rivulets, howls the chorusing lyrics. She occasionally suggested she wear waterproof mascara but Floria always replied with a shake of her head and a glint in her eye. She liked the way it went down her face. It showed dedication.

Bryn continues across stage, glass from a Coca-Cola bottle crunching beneath her platform soles. She studies Tinsley and Harper as they admire Hayden. Then looks away to watch a couple at the bar, paying no attention to her band.

A pretty little thing the girl was. Pale and frail with a heart-shaped face and hazel eyes. Her hair, thick and brown was an espresso-and-caramel shade, red in the light. She wears a cream wrap dress and stockings, sips her virgin daiquiri daintily, and clasps the gold cross at her throat when she laughs.

The man chuckles and motions his tumbler to the bartender, who rushes over to refill it. He laughs and searches the breast pocket of his plaid shirt, retrieves a small paper, and slides it over to the girl. She grabs it off the counter and reads it, laughing. Touches his shoulder and climbs off the ottoman, says something to him, touches his denim-clad knee, and walks off.

He smiles and watches her disappear out of the club.

Another couple, who caught her eye, was more romantically involved. A girl in a leopard-print dress sat in his lap on a sleek leather couch. Their lips crushed as his hands roam down her backless dress. He had nice messy blonde hair, a sculpted frame that she could see in the dark, and a good tan. He cracked open an eye, lifting his gaze to her, and broke off the kiss.

Angelina nods with a shut of her eyes, ramming the strings. Colorful smoke emits from backstage, flooding the area in a cold smog. She bobs her head, hair swirling in a wild blonde fan, and clicks a heel on the littered stage as she models a valiant pose.

She twists back to Hayden, who grins and clashes the cymbals as Bryn whips around, the wire tangled in her fingers.

The guitar solo began, giving her time to breathe and catch her breath. Bryn winds the cord up her thighs and between her legs. Her eyes flutter shut as she leans to secure the wire momentarily. Pauses movement, reopens her eyes, and lets the wires sink to the floor.

Barely a second later, she caught the mike and made a stance. She realized as she sang she was pointing at the mysterious blonde. Bryn extends her arm, clenches a fist, and yanks her arm back, bringing her hand to her chest with a smirk.

She backs away until she was leaning back against an unused speaker, watching her bandmates.

And once finished, the crowd pauses but surprises her with screams and howls of what they'd like to do to her. Bryn grins in gratitude and after finishing their set, she was backstage. Soaked in sweat and fanning herself with her hands. Adler had gone home early to catch something on the CW.

"Oh, I'm tired," she groans, observing her torn stockings, which she broke when sliding across the stage. "and these were _really_ expensive."

Stradlin chuckles and ran his fingers through his matted hair. "Chill, Jett. I'm sure it's all good. And mind telling me about that stage-persona, Lila Thorn?"

Bryn smirks. "It's gonna be just for a while. You have yours, _Matthew_."

"Touché."

"Excuse me." someone intervenes. Bryn and Stradlin look away from one another to face a man. Bryn's heart skips when she realizes it was the cryptic blonde she saw with the hooker on his arm. She was gone and he was alone, facing her and giving her outfit a look of overconfidence. Stradlin raises an eyebrow but says nothing. "If you don't mind, may I be able to speak to Miss Thorn alone?"

Stradlin blinks before nodding. "Sure, whatever," he shrugs and rises, touching Bryn's forearm. "Going home. Call you later."

Bryn nods. "See you, Stradlin."

He smirks. "Bye, Lila."

Right when he disappeared, the blonde approaches. The rings on his fingers catch the light and glitter like the gemstones on Rodney's girls' faces. "_Lila_," he drawls. "is that your real name?"

Bryn fought the urge to roll her eyes. "I'm Bryn. Bryn Blackwell." She lifts a stray lock of blonde. "And this isn't my real hair color if you hadn't noticed."

"Hmm," he muses with growing interest. "You're quite convincing."

"Thanks." She was tired and wanted to get to Mary-Ann's before Harper could think to call and find out she wasn't there. Plus, she had to wash the dye out by morning so she wouldn't make her performance anymore obvious. "So," She props her elbows on her knees and interlaces her fingers. "what'd you wanna talk about?"

He smirks, a seductive, familiar one he probably tamed all women with. "I saw you looking at me," he advises with charm in his voice that if she didn't have morality, she would've jumped in his arms and screamed like a pretend hooker. "While you were performing you looked right at me."

Bryn's heart took another round trip. She needed to play it cool, had to stay intimidating. "Yeah," she admits, surprised at her stable voice. "I look at a lot of people in my shows. Is there a problem?"

He shook his head. "Not at all." he answers. "You're just so intimidating and powerful that I'd like to have someone like you and I'm sure you're thinking the same." His hand left hers and slid from her knee to the garter on her thigh. His hand felt warm and familiar like _his _were. "Someone … to love."

Bryn stays staring, eyes wide. Noticing the rough stubble garnish his chiseled jaw and the flirting which was close to sweeping her off her feet and – _No!_ This wouldn't happen, this _couldn_'_t _happen! She barely even knew the guy!

Bryn smiles foolishly and brushes his hand off. "I admire your persistence." She inspects his face again and finally realized who he was … Javier Dominguez. The second son of a Spanish socialite and an Oscar-winning actor. No wonder he seemed familiar. She's seen practically all his father's dramas. He was basically the Spanish Leonardo DiCaprio. "I saw you with that girl, that _slut_. I don't date guys like you. I'm not just another bottle blonde whore." She takes deep breaths. "So I wouldn't waste my time."

She ushers past him and reaches for a cigarette, inspecting it before rejecting it. Turns back to Javier, who hadn't moved and was still looking over her with a smirk. She huffs in annoyance, snatches up a pile of rumpled clothing before turning to leave.

**X**

"What a _night_." Tinsley told Harper as his family car pulls up in front of her dollhouse-white townhouse. "Thanks so much, Harper." The night had gone perfect except for when she had spilt red wine on her Oscar De La Renta mini but Harper's gaze never strayed from hers the entire night.

Harper slumps back in the leather. "Don't mention it." he assures, gesturing with his wrist. He looks to her house. The lamps in the windows indicated someone was awake. "We should do this again, sometime."

"Definitely." she agreed, opening the door before planting a glittery Louboutin on the concrete. "See you tomorrow?"

Harper's smile never drops as he leans in. "Of course."

They close in but before anything can happen, both startle instinctively as Harper hacks into a palm awkwardly. "W-Well," he stammers, leaning for the opposite window to hide the redness in his face. "I'll see you."

She nods without another word and leaves his car.

Harper sighs as his elderly chauffeur turns to him. "Where would you like to go, Mr. Blackwell?"

Harper shook his head to himself. "Home, please." he requests as the car peels down a few blocks, stopping immediately at a red light.

What just happened? Did he ruin a perfectly good night? Why'd he have to be so stupid?

Bryn was at Mary-Ann's. Or something. She couldn't be as mad as earlier, hours passed. Being her, she was probably on Mary-Ann's ratty couch with a bowl of caramel corn in her lap, imitating Gone with the Wind's famous quotes as she dreamt of song lyrics.

He could at least make it up to her. But with what exactly? She didn't like junk average girls loved: a good box of Godiva, a Tiffany's diamond-encrusted tennis bracelet, an adorable stuffed animal. Bryn was herself. Who could possibly change that?

She likes classic CDs and hates all gossip magazines and bloggers whatsoever (she always threw a cursing fit around the house when Gossip Bee uploaded pictures of her on his/her site), and _surprisingly_, hated shopping.

He could buy replacement strings for her electric guitar that lingered in the corner of her room, catching dust since she never went to purchase them herself and would always come to him, complaining on how she longed to operate her prized instrument. Maybe that'd make her feel better. Should he call her? Bryn wasn't exactly a morning person, anyway.

He dials her number, presses the phone to his ear, and listens to the continuous ring before he's directed to voicemail.

_Bryn_,_ here_._ If I_'_m not answering_, _it either means my phone_'_s dead_,_ I_'_m dead or I just don_'_t wanna talk to you_. _It_'_s most likely answer two_._ Either way_, _I_'_ll call you soon_. _Or maybe I won_'_t … _

Harper shook his head. How many times had he told her to change that? It was so inappropriate.

He still didn't lower his phone so he decided to dial Mary-Ann. The phone rang twice before he received an answer. "H-Hello?" The grogginess of a tired girl is heard. "Harper? Why you awake?"

With a weak smile, Harper replies. "Mary-Ann," he greets. "is Bryn there? Is she okay?"

There was a pause before a whimper and soundless laughter. "Yeah, she's here. Knocked-out like the dead."

He couldn't stifle his sigh of relief. "Thanks, Mary-Ann."

Another giggle. "G'night."

Without waiting, the line went dead and Harper disconnects the call. He couldn't help but feel relieved that his sister was alright.

Sure, they had their fights. Who didn't?

What if –

_No_. He didn't need to be thinking of that. Ever.

Yet his mind wandered …

**X**

And across town, Mary-Ann places a knitted quilt over Bryn as she slept soundlessly on the torn leather couch. Hair splattered across her forehead and face bare of makeup. She was yet to change out of her costume.

Mary-Ann, braids pulled from her face, massages Bryn's temples like a doting mother. "Goodnight, kid." she says gently. "Be careful."

She definitely needed to heed that advice.

**X**

**I based "Guns or Roses" off Guns N' Roses, obviously. There's a lot of similarities in them as there was in the original lineup of the band.**

**"Cherry Bomb" belongs to The Runaways and Joan Jett, as "Sweet Child O' Mine" belongs to Guns N' Roses.**

**The next chapter will be much sooner and Javier and the other two in the back will also reappear as well.**


	3. Chapter 3

Bryn enters an old-fashioned boutique with flickering lights and a woman with braces behind the counter. Bryn moves through the _Women_ section of clothes absentmindedly and turns to hear a taunting voice from behind her. "Hey, hon," the clerk says with a crude smirk. "the girls section is on the _other _side."

Joan-esque hair pulled in an old baseball cap, Bryn turns to the clerk before back to the racks, a sign on the bar read _men_. She raised an eyebrow and walked through the section anyway. Maybe she could find something for Harper.

Another irritable comeback. "You gonna buy something or you just gonna keep lookin' around?" she asks as Bryn eventually approaches. The woman's red hair highlighted light brown, mouth and eyelids painted black. She looked like a bad actress auditioning for a role in _Twilight_.

Bryn moves to face the man beside her. He looked like the perfect Elvis, complete with gel-slicked hair and a studded leather jacket. She also took notice to his bony hips. Bryn stares at him in awe as he spoke to the clerk affectionately. The Elvis-look was a whole getter to her.

She turns to the clerk and unhooks her wallet from her belt, smacks it on the counter, and speaks with the seriousness of a parole officer.

"I want what he's wearing."

Minutes later, Bryn is outside, wearing the same leather the man had, studded belt and all. She threw her hat into a public garbage can (she could always buy a new one) and ran between the passing residents. Hair strewn madly and eyes wild, she smiles. Chains the wallet back to her belt and lights a cigarette before coming to stop near a punk she never met before.

Bryn laughs, shoving her shoulders roughly. "Who am I?" she asks, gesturing to her leather proudly.

The brunette steals her cigarette and puts it to her lips. Her teeth are yellow and damaged. "Suzi Quatro? Debbie Harry?"

Bryn shoves her again, waving her arms overhead. "No, man! Joan Jett, the fucking Rock Queen!"

Throwing her arms to the sky, the girl laughs. "Yeaaaaah!"

**X**

Harper rakes his fingers through his hair and unbuttons his blazer to expose a nice shirt and tie. He goes to his room and slings his schoolbag onto his shoulder, shutting the door behind him. He descends the stairs and shoots his house keys into a schoolbag pocket.

Again, Bryn hadn't called him and when he called Mary-Ann to ask about her earlier, she told him Bryn had left before she'd woken which he believed since that was something she'd do.

She could at least have the courtesy to call him, he worried. She was his sister and he cared. When their parents weren't around, all they had were the maids. You don't write checks to family. But they were useful for other things like washing dishes and ordering pizza and paying the monthly Netflix bill. Even though he pissed his sister off and she did the same, they were still family.

Leaving worry to the wind, he pulls opens the door and immediately someone crashes into him. He caught the perpetrator's wrist and froze when he realized who it was. His grip tightens reflexively. "Bryn?" he asks disbelievingly, clutching her forearms as she cocks both eyebrows. "What're you doing here?"

She smirks. "What're _you _doing here?"

Harper smiles and his grip loosens. "My house."

Bryn adjusts herself and shook the hair from her eyes, a relieved smile overtook her devious smirk. "Mine, too. Or did you forget that while you were with your … _friend_?" she demands, flinging off his hand. "By the way, how was Rodney's yesterday? Floria texted me and said they rocked the house."

Harper blinks before stepping back and leaning against the door. Wow, she really didn't go yesterday. That was surprising but he hates to not believe her. Her and that Lila Thorn had such similarities. "Tinsley and I had a good time. Your band chose a good replacement."

Bryn nods and almost felt bad that he actually brought that corset-clad alter ego of hers.

It was quite sad. Come on, _H_, couldn't you tell that was your baby sis up on that smoky stage?

"I guess." Bryn claims with a shrug. "She'll never be as good as me."

Harper rumples her hair and chuckles, watching as she shut her eyes in mock-pain. "That's _so_ true," he jokes and blocks the door when she attempts to sidestep past him. "Why are you going in? You already have your uniform on."

Bryn in her uniform was shocking to her usual style. Instead of a ripped tee was a plain blouse, leather pants exchanged for a tasteless polyester skirt, studded boots for battered high-tops. She also had on lace tights with holes in the knees and red-checkered bracelets.

She smiles. "I was gonna grab some cigarettes."

Which was Bryn's biggest quirk: smoking. She was an addict with rehab-potential. When girls flitted to their shined black limos to be drove to five-star restaurants and brunches. She sat on a park bench, smoking Camels, and listening to Thin Lizzy.

Harper pretends to check a watch he didn't have. "Oh, look at the time," he teases. "We're gonna be late." He ducks and swiftly took her in his arms. Their eyebrows cocked simultaneously. "You'll thank me later, trust me."

Instead of punching his stomach and beginning to scream, she broke into furious laughter, leaning back casually. "Jeez, Harper, you never give up, do you?" she inquires between laughs. "You're so persistent."

"I'm glad you think that." he answers as he walks them to their car. "Whether you like it or not, you're getting to school." Their chauffeur opens the door as he releases her on the seat across from his. The door slams behind them.

Bryn shifts until she was lying back against her seat. "You know, Harper, you're actually an occasionally cool brother."

Harper opens the window and gazes out. "And you're an occasionally wonderful sister."

Aw. Cute.

**X**

Javier adjusts his tie as he left his penthouse, hitting the elevator button and waiting patiently for it to arrive on his floor. That Lila – (or Bryn?) was interesting because she could care less about him. She only recognized him because of his parents. How could she not know who he was? He was always on Gossip Bee's page and constantly featured on the best-dressed columns of weekly gossip magazines.

She was daring and he liked that and especially liked how she brushed his hand off as if he were an insect. That simple thing would make all girls swoon.

The doors opened before him and he slid in, pressing the button for the lobby. The doors close as he shut his eyes in a sigh. He would win her over, make her believe in his love to her, and dump her like daily garbage because that's all she'd be.

She was just another pawn. They all were.

The doors open once on the lobby floor. He passes an elderly woman in a weather-appropriate cardigan, who politely wishes him a _good day_ in Spanish. He returns the greeting with a charming smile which he could've sworn made the old woman blush.

He lived close to St. Jude's like everyone and went through the doors toward French. Despite his French being excellent, he decided to take a second year to get an easy hundred.

He saunters into class without a sound. The bilingual instructor, Ms. Meyer, scribbled across the board in girlish cursive. She turns as Javier enters, smiling like a parent, and withdrew her chalk. He would've had an easy hookup if it wasn't for her large engagement ring. "_Bonjour_, Javier." she greets. "Good morning, how are you?" But it instead came out like: _Good mo_-_ning_, '_ow ah yu_?

Javier places his bag down. "_Bien_, _et vous_?"

The woman smiles, returning to the blackboard. "_Bien_, _merci_."

The door swung open before Javier could sit. Harper enters, holding his chest as if he just ran a marathon. He wipes his brow, panting. "Sorry, miss. I was … dropping my sister off … then the doors locked and then –" He was rambling but the teacher cut him off with a nonchalant wave.

"No worries. I understand ya sister 'right. She was quite the wild child last year. Bryn Blackwell. You two ah opposites." she recalls before writing "_les salutations_." "So sh-weet."

Javier sits and looks to Harper with an arched brow. "Bryn Blackwell?" he repeats as Harper takes the seat across from him, looking at him questionably. "Wasn't she at Rodney's show?"

Harper withdrew his French book and thumped it on his desk. "No …?" he answers, staring at Javier confusingly. "My sister was at a friend's." His brows knit in suspicion, dents forming. "Why?"

Javier felt the urge to laugh in his face. How could he not know where his own sister was? _That _was sad. Just to create a wall, he waves it off and shook his head. "Forget it."

Harper blinks and glares when Javier turns away. He flips through his book furiously and desired to swear the kid off for trying to throw everything in a riddle but couldn't.

Why?

His backbone wasn't that strong.

**X**

Tinsley swerves through the emptying halls. Where was Guitar Instruction? Constance was so huge she barely knew where anything was anymore. They were always renovating and changing and adding new rooms.

She reaches Room 224, the door partly open and heavy rock screaming from inside. Tinsley swept her hair over her shoulders and entered in uneasy silence. Other students held vintage guitars and basses, cords from microphones and loudspeakers strewn like silvery snakes across the carpet.

The man, who she assumed was the teacher, turns to meet her. His hair was long and he wore a leather vest over a Led Zeppelin tee, a spiked collar, and two silver rods on his unibrow. He grins and motions her over. "Tinsley Hastings. Am I right?"

Tinsley nods, fingering a feathery earring. "Nice to meet you." she greets and lowers her sequined Gucci bag into an empty chair. "Sorry, I'm late."

The man chuckles before slumping in a chair. "No worries, Tinsley. Most of my students don't come for a few more minutes. _Everyone _takes their time."

_Most_?

"Mr. Man! We're here!" Hayden shouts from the doorpost, her arm slung over Bryn's shoulders as they sidle in. Tinsley waves at Bryn, who allows her the blankest of acknowledgments. Hayden's hair pulled in a knot, her eyes bedecked in cobalt liner and mascara, and her skirt barely brushing her thighs. Her grin was wide and real. "Bryn kinda made me leave to get smokes. What an addict, right?"

Bryn threw a cigarette into the trash. "These are bootleg because I got a stash at home and these taste like sh –"

Mr. Man shakes his head. "Language, Bryn."

Bryn sighs, placing her bag down and with that, her phone buzzed. Bryn raises a brow and checks the caller ID. She took Hayden by the arm, excusing them.

Tinsley shrunk down as Mr. Man grins. "Tins, grab a Gibson. I'll get Bryn to teach you the basics."

_Great_.

**X**

"Hello, baby doll." Rodney exclaims cheerfully. He always seemed happy. Maybe because of all the money he made. Every time Rodney did call, he seemed to want something. "I have a request, my little beauty."

The infamous line: "_I have a request_."

No matter the request, Bryn would never oblige. She nods and held out a hand to Hayden for another counterfeit cigarette. Hayden hands her one and Bryn stuck it in her mouth. "Anything."

Rodney chuckles, sounding intoxicated. How could someone get drunk this early in the morning? "Me and the owner of the shack down the road are havin' a party at his place. It ain't too far from my club. I'll send you directions so can you be there tonight?"

Tonight? Usually, he gave the band a show every weekend but _tonight_? Plus, she had school and was supposed to be meeting up with the girls for practice at Tammy's. God, she couldn't say no. And she didn't even have anything to wear beside the corset. Only fake blood capsules she could sneak in a shirt. Would that work with the corset? Too messy. Guess she really didn't have a choice now, did she?

"Hey, baby," Rodney calls, words slurred and wheezy. Definitely drunk. "still there?"

"Just text directions."

"Kay!"

"We got a show tonight." Bryn said, the dent on her brow thickening. "One of Rodney's many friends, apparently."

Hayden lit Bryn's cigarette before returning her lighter to her jacket. "You really hafta learn to say no. He gives us shows at random. Remember … you dimmed on stage before an audience once."

They all remember. Bryn was practicing a stunt where harnesses lifted her to soar above the audience, the cord twisted and she went spiraling to the stage and swearing while still trying to sing with a budding concussion.

She never chose to do those stunts again. Mainly because Harper wouldn't allow it.

Hayden snags Bryn's cigarette. "Bryn, come on. We just had that wild show. And we never play on school days. You gotta tell Rodney somethin' because I ain't performing."

Her own drummer was trying to threaten her? Bryn Blackwell would never let that happen.

"Don't threaten me." Bryn sneers. "This is _my_ band and if you don't wanna play you can just leave. I don't need ya, trust me. So buh-bye, bitch."

Hayden huffs under her breath. "Gladly." She heads back in the music room and Bryn watches Hayden throw the cigarette at her. It falls at her feet and Bryn glares at Hayden's back. She didn't need her. She could always find a replacement drummer.

Bryn notices Tinsley sitting alone in the corner of the room. Mr. Man motions her close. "Hey, Bryn, you mind teaching Hastings an instrument? Just a quick lesson or two."

"Might as well." Bryn turns to Tinsley to see her sitting, staring at her, smiling.

Smiling. She swore the bitch hated her.

Bryn inwardly sighs and waves Tinsley over, directs to the shelf of guitars and instructs Tinsley to pick one. Hayden and another drummer sat at the far end of the room, practicing Deep Purple's 'Smoke on the Water.'

Bryn went to the stands and chose a coal-and-eggshell Stigma and slung the strap over her shoulder, slumping backward. She shifts the guitar into her lap as Tinsley chose a maroon acoustic, grabbing the seat across from Bryn. "Is that guitar okay? Sometimes, those strings cut fingers."

Tinsley shook her head. "Don't worry about it," she assures. "It'll be fine."

"Cool." She brings her hand to the neck of the guitar. "Now, position your hands like this."

Aw, friendship.

**X**

"Why are you even wearing that hat, Steven?" Matt asks, preparing his Physics paper on the teacher's desk. "Mr. Pierceton is gonna kill you for that."

Steven went through a desk drawer and pulls out two cigars while their teacher was in the Teacher's Lounge. He couldn't believe Matt and he shared a nerdy teacher, who smoked Honeysuckles, dressed like a hippie, and has an addiction to bourbon-spiked tea. But he was sure one hell of a mellow dude.

"Well, Matthew, it's not my fault you can't wear your aviators here." Steven replies, closing the drawer and slumping down in the teacher's chair, spitting his gum out into a workbook page. "I could still smoke while Pierceton's gone."

Matt sighs and snatches his Zippo back. "I hope you realize he's coming back eventually and will eventually smell the smoke when or if he does. He's not _that_ dense."

Steven twists his Mets baseball cap and clucks his tongue. "Yeah." he agrees, smirking. "Pierceton is just too slow to realize I'm smoking in front. Two dudes were doin' acid yesterday and were all high and crazy by the window." Matt smiles, somehow managing to not laugh. "Told ya."

Matt only checks his watch. "We leave in two minutes so you learned nothing today."

Steven shrugs, flicking the cherry off his cigarette. "Hey, no homework. We should meet up with Bryn for lunch."

Matt yawns before sliding on his Ray Bans and smoothing his slacks. The bell rang and everyone ran for the door. "It's better than doing nothing, Blondie."

"Coffee. Not lunch." Steven corrects and swings for the door.

**X**

Bryn plucks the strings and meets Tinsley's warm gaze with a smile. "Try." she instructs, leading a pick along the top strings. "The beginning strings are always the lightest so you gotta play them weak so they won't pop." She cradles the guitar and strums a swelling rock symphony. "I popped dozens over the years."

Tinsley giggles and tunes her own kind. "Really?" she asks. "Did it hurt? Did you cut your fingers?"

Bryn laughs and held the guitar's neck, gentle on the frets. "All the time. I busted my fingers a couple of times but it wasn't _that_ bad. Like popping a balloon, just surprising … when you start doing it more, you just curse. My friends have come to just swear or scream when they break strings."

Tinsley nods, propping the guitar onto a stand, continuing to smile. It was good to try and get on her better side so next time she wouldn't do something like throw a fire extinguisher at her or shove her through glass doors or even push her into a busy road.

Bryn slams her guitar down and grins, crossing her legs, one over the other. "I was supposed to go for lunch with Floria but she's going with her boyfriend today. Wanna grab a bite?"

"Sure." Tinsley stands and folds her fingers. "That sounds great."

And as on cue, the bell rang and Bryn says goodbye to their teacher as she and Tinsley went out. Hayden shoves past them violently and disappears off through the opposite corridor.

Bryn took Tinsley by the arm. "Come on, we gotta be quick." she shares. "Maybe before we leave, we could see Flor."

Tinsley smiles. "Is she your best friend?" she asks as she and Bryn merge into the crowd. "You seem to talk about her a lot."

Bryn's face falls momentarily but she eventually smiles. "Yeah, I've known her for a few years. She's cool, dated Harper once but … yeah, it didn't work." She notices Tinsley frown and couldn't help but feel guilty. At least they weren't together anymore. "But she got a new guy and he's such an asshole and … I just hate them together. I'm just suspicious."

Tinsley shook her head. "That's not a problem." she admits as they eventually make it into the courtyard. Flowerpots of greenery surround them beside a tiny manicured garden. A well-paid gardener came every morning to nurse the tree saplings. A couple roams across the pavement and Bryn stops to grab a cigarette. "Everyone gets cautious once in a while, you know."

"I guess." She lights the cigarette, then offers one to Tinsley, who quickly declines. "If you met him, you'd understand."

Tinsley stood quiet as she watched the couple. A tall, dark-haired guy from St. Jude's yanks a girl's elbow. She swore under her breath and cursed him courageously. He appeared to be screaming, and shoved her to the cobblestones. It panged Bryn's heart familiarly.

And she saw red and abruptly stormed over. Tinsley went to catch her arm but Bryn evades her and she bit down on her lip. "Bryn!" she cries, outstretching her fingers. "Come back!"

She didn't know how Harper dealt with her. Not that she was trouble but … reckless. Enough to attack a man half her size? Confront a murderer? Who knows if he's done this before to Floria? It's mortifying.

So she swallows and dials a familiar number.

Bryn reaches the man, shoving him in the stomach. "The fuck is wrong with you, Thomas?"

Thomas scoffs and tosses his bag past Floria as she tries to nurse her scraped knees with her cardigan, she eyes Bryn and gestures for her to leave. "Absolutely nothing, bitch." he snarls, slams her shoulder and she imagined him doing worse. "Try me."

"Gladly." She shoves into him causing him to stumble and trip over his backpack. She wasn't strong enough to punch someone but her weight seemed to be reliable. Bryn wipes her hands off her skirt and places a hand on her hip. "That'll teach you."

Thomas heads in and wipes his nose, his shadow looms like a predator and she notices a crowd. Boys and girls gasp and _ooh_. He shoves her and causes her to sway backward, her ankle twists. She wouldn't let him get the win.

Bryn steadies herself and reaches for him. Tinsley, from afar, had tears sparkling in her eyes, appearing to talk into her silver Samsung cell, fear marking her features strongly.

Thomas caught her arm and brought her into him, hands met her face and she felt the graze of his ring above her chin. Before she could attack, someone caught her in their embrace, yanking her into a lean torso. Bryn begun to battle her supposed perpetrator, mouth suddenly sweltering.

"LET ME GO! LET ME GO!" Bryn screams, kicking and shouting like a strained animal. She notices their hands, nails bitten and decked with two silver skull rings. "LET ME –"

"Bryn," someone says gently. She turns to see Steven knelt in front of her. "It's just me. _Us_. Matt and me." He suddenly smiles when Bryn's wild bucking ends. A largely muscular student pins a strangled Thomas down as girls led Floria to the infirmary. Bryn looks to see Matt, his grip grew weak in a smile.

"You okay, kid?" he asks like an older brother. "Aw, shit."

Bryn blinks at Steven. "What happened?" All normal color bled from his face as he led a fingertip along her bottom lip and pointed it over to her. The red smudged on his finger was definitely not her lipstick. "Oh, nice."

Matt releases Bryn as the bulky man releases Thomas. As that occurred, Matt stomps over and swings his knuckles to his face. Eventually climbing over Thomas and continuing to beat him bloody. His rings shined red in the sun. Their friends cheering and hollering until teachers came.

Bryn smirks, stanching the blood with her sleeve. "He is definitely my brother."

**X**

Tinsley sighs once she saw Bryn was safe. Despite Bryn not favoring her, she treated her like the younger sister she always wanted. She smiles when Bryn caught her gaze and was surprised to see her do the same. Matt high-fived Steven as they snuck out the back together.

"Hey, Tinsley!" Tinsley turns to see Harper running over, grinning. Hair rippling in the breeze. He was … wonderful. Tinsley waves and proceeds toward him until someone caught her wrist and she turns to see a girl. Not just any girl. It was someone too familiar in her eyes.

Her hair was short and freckles claimed the slope of her nose, her full lips were as red and sleek as ripe apples. When she smiled, a fake white smile, dimples around her mouth and her brow said she was obviously forcing it. She wore their uniform but added diamonds to her neck, blue gemstones on each finger grabbed the sunlight prettily. "Hello, Tinsley Hastings." she spoke, words a mix of honey and venom. "It's been so long."

Tinsley releases a breath and touches her gauzy green headband. She acknowledges Harper sadly as he approaches unknowingly. The girl uncoils her fingers as she finally finds her voice. "Vena," she murmurs and shrugs against her humiliation.

Another girl strolls through the courtyard. Brownish hair in a bun with curls alongside her oval face. She narrows her eyes and hooks her arm with another girl, then inspects her stockings and manicure. "Hmm, Vena appears to be back," she remarks to the redhead beside her. "that's too bad."

"She won't last, Claire." the redhead says.

Claire watches Tinsley stare at Vena fearfully before turning away with a smile. "No, no, she won't."

They saunter off, leaving behind new conflicts.

**X**

**And that ends another chapter revealing the queen bee, Claire, and the new student, Vena. The next chapter shall be soon and more drama forms and two characters from the last chapter and two newbies will appear soon. :) I hope you all enjoy. **


	4. Chapter 4

Bryn holds an icepack to her ankle as she reclines on the leather couch in the mansion. Observes a cracked drumstick balanced on her knee, a gift from Steven. Her band before didn't consist of girls but two guys – who had no guitar experience but had still flown from their native Idaho to join her in playing for a charity. They disbanded days later and while on the flight alone, she cried into her hands. When finally back in New York, she expected Harper to come but was met with Steven.

She exhaustedly sobbed through JFK because she didn't want the band to breakup despite its terrible sound. Steven came and saw her tears. Eyes of topaz ablaze and was quiet, only led her to a cab, tossed her luggage into the trunk (which consisted solely of leather) and when they were in, pulled her into his lap, telling her it'd be alright.

She cried harder in his arms, stopped eventually, and gave her thanks. He grinned and ruffled her hair, then unhooked a drumstick from his belt and told her it was one of the sticks he used to play his first show when he was fifteen, saying he snapped the other in half when he found out his ex-girlfriend, Cheryl, cheated on him with a churchgoing girl.

As he handed it to her, she grinned and clunked him over the head with it. He plunged into laughter and threw his head back as if she had told the funniest joke.

She was glad to find her attempt at making him smile had worked, too.

Bryn left the couch, kicking her icepack aside as she went to her parents' room. They were never around, so nothing was ever moved or brought in. The bedsheets were always folded right, a film of dust always littered the perfume bottles on her mother's vanity, and her father's Armani suits were still in the closet.

Her parents rarely came … together.

They divorced awhile back. Her mother, Luciana, a fashion designer was dedicated to designing timeless swimwear and occasional dresses for her favored celebrity clients. She usually came to visit once a month and sometimes to only retrieve extra tulle fabric or whatever she happened to forget from the divorce.

Her father, Jackson, an international businessman visited every next weekend. He was often occupied in Switzerland or Indonesia for business ventures but returned to she and Harper with souvenirs to their likings. She's always been close to her father and he happened to be the one to purchase her first guitar, a shiny blue Les Paul she still has today.

Bryn enters the room, grazing her fingers along the bedsheets until she reaches her father's side. She knew it because he'd leave their gifts there. And must've arrived without their knowing because in place was a guitar pick taped to a note that said _to my Kitten_ and a baseball cap for Harper.

Bryn smiles to herself and grabs the guitar pick and opens one of her father's drawers. Her face drops when she saw what was inside.

Empty bottles of pills, paychecks with his scribbled signature, silver cases of cigars.

She exhales slowly and pushes the empty bottles to find more beneath the mess. A glass pipe, the remainders of dirty white lines. Unable to fight from reaching for the pipe. Why would he have this? He was her daddy. Jackson Blackwell always said drugs were wrong. He couldn't be doing them. He must be holding all of this for a colleague. Yeah, that was it.

Her twitchy fingers betray her as she drops the pipe onto the hardwood floor and watches it spray glass around her feet. Her throat tightens and she wanted to scream for Harper, to tell him – to tell him their dad – her _daddy_ was secretly holding drugs. She wanted to run and scream and sob into her father's arms, begging him to tell her this was just some terrible dream.

But she couldn't.

She was the tough one. She was meant to be the next Joan. The Blackwell that slept with a pistol under her mattress when she was alone. She was Bryn Blackwell.

No matter what she wouldn't cry.

Bryn knelt over the shards to shove them underneath the mattress to make sure they remained hidden. No one would ever notice.

She got off her knees and dusted her skirt clean. Goes for another drawer, carefully stepping off from the path of splintery glass.

It was only more cigars. They were legal and she already knew he was an occasional smoker. Bryn raises a brow and carefully slid out a cigar, wiping it clean with her fingertips. She took a lighter out of her pocket, lit off, and put it to her lips with a slow smirk.

Yep. She was Bryn Blackwell, alright. No one could change that.

**X**

"Tins," Harper calls, swinging his bag over his shoulder and grabbing his Calculus book. "Who was that chick? That girl we saw outside. It seemed like you knew her from somewhere." They left in silence as Tinsley turned to Harper with broadened eyes. She wished that he never needed to find out about Vena. _Ugh_, just her name felt like a bad heroine injection.

Tinsley shook her head. Why'd he have to bring this up, anyway? It wasn't necessarily his fault but couldn't he talk about something like Bryn's earlier battle or his Calculus homework? "Just an old friend." she lies, brushing through a clique following their leader, Claire Larson. "No one important."

She didn't want to see Vena again. She was trying to act like her friend but was doing a suckish job. She was always the culprit who managed something terrible. Tinsley knew she was back for revenge, which was the obvious answer. Not that she'd ever choose to be friends with Vena again after that huge ordeal from years back.

But how _did_ she get back?

Lucky for her, Harper decided to drop the subject. "Oh, cool," Harper answers, receiving a hard clap on the back from a bulky jock in the halls, who smiles as he passes them with a girl hooked to his arm. "Do you think Bryn's okay? I'm a little worried. Especially after today."

Harper, thankfully, didn't see his sister get hurt but when told of her twisted ankle and swollen lip, was furious. He was ready to find the bastard and beat him bloody for even laying a _finger _on her. But was grateful for Matthew because he rescued his sister and completed the job singlehandedly. Matthew was much better at caring for her. Sometimes, he wonders if he's even a good brother.

Harper shut his eyes to rid his mind of negative thoughts.

Tinsley smiles and dimples bend her smile nicely. "I'm sure she's fine. She's only been back there for an hour now. Honestly, what's the worst that can happen?"

He chuckles nervously. "I can give you plenty of answers."

"Tinsley, Harper!" a girl shouts from behind them. They both turn to see Vena charging toward them with a terrible smile like the Bride of Chucky. That smile she knew was practically smothered in hate. "I just got here and was wondering if you knew where class one-twenty-two was? I don't seem to find it."

Harper smiles politely at Vena. "I'm actually heading there now. Mrs. Peterson's, right?" His smile widens with Vena's shy nod. "Yeah, Chemistry. Why don't we go together? I have to give in something to Bryn's teacher."

Vena produces a toothy grin and her fingers closed around his elbow. She doesn't see or maybe ignores Tinsley, who glares into her back. "That's great, Harper! Come on, we don't wanna be late now!"

Harper nods and smiles back at Tinsley. Oblivious as always. "Hey, I'll see you later, okay? We'll meet … um, afterschool." Without looking back, he gives her a backhanded wave and leaves with Vena still on his arm. He spoke softly and when he was turned away, she was looking back around at Tinsley.

Her gaze was deadly, the look would be able to pierce the most endurable glass and make anyone run and cower. Dents carved into her forehead and her fake smile replaced with an antagonistic sneer. She twirls her hair like a devilish angel and turns the corner with an unnoticing Harper.

The look clearly said: _the bitch is back_.

**X**

"Hey, Claire," Jacqueline Dias calls, turning to her pact leader as she applies punch pink lipstick, puckering her lips and blowing kisses to the St. Jude's boys that strode past. She ran tan fingers through her caramel curls, flipping them to attempt a pass. The boys looked at her and back at one another before bursting into laughter. She really needed to learn because anyone could tell that they didn't swing her way. "You think we should actually help, Hastings? She may need it."

Claire snags her peacock blue Lanvin bag off a spare seat and hands it to a girl for cleaning. "If she asks for help then I'll consider it. But there's been nothing so far, I'm sure she'll be fine." Claire assures. "Tinsley's quite strong when it comes to her own matters."

With slanted violet eyes and hair drooping in a low bun, Sarah McKress leans over to Claire. "She'll be begging for your assistance sooner or later. You know, Vena … she's always trying to get what she wants. It never works, the only one she ever got was Javier and he left her in a span of minutes."

Claire smirks and crosses her slender, tennis-exercised legs. "I don't care what Vena wants as long as she doesn't come between me and I believe you all know …" She looks through her crowd, smile dropping when she notices Vena latched on Harper's bicep with a sugary smile. Claire loses her smile as she toys with the neat hem of her skirt. "Excuse me, ladies. I have business to attend to."

The girls nod in robotic unison as Claire exits her seat, pushing past nose-picking, Dona, and hopeless romantic, Elizabeth. Reaching their side immediately, plastering on her sweetest smile and swinging past Vena. "Harper, great to see you." she greets, fingers coiling over his wrist. "Vena."

Vena's eyes narrow but she keeps her smile. "Clarissa."

Despite Harper's usual warm, his expression darkens when met with Claire. "Hello, Claire." he responds, unlatching an arm from Vena's. "I didn't know you had this class."

Claire laughs as the teacher fiddles with glass tubes and beakers on the back counters. "Oh, silly," She giggles, slapping his arm as Vena walks off to take a seat by an open window. Maybe if she was lucky, she'd be able to push her out when no one was looking. "Of course I do! I've told you. Don't tell me you forgot ..."

Harper directs his bored eyes to the window before back to Claire. "Must've slipped my mind."

Once she saw Vena spacing – by far, her worst trait. She took Harper by the sleeve and excused herself, slamming the door and leading Harper down a hall. He didn't oblige and followed her until they reached an empty classroom.

"Harper," Claire says, honey replaced with dark casualty. "Stay away from Vena. Take it from me. She isn't good news and I know you may be –"

Harper coughs bitterly. "Don't judge a book by its cover, Claire. She's harmless, a new student. You must have her mistaken for someone else and knowing you, I wouldn't be surprised."

Claire raises a darkened brow. "You haven't been in this school as long as Tinsley and I but we actually _know_ her before you ever came along." Harper became silent to think. It was true since Bryn and he lived in Italy most of their lives. Bryn was exhausted by it and chose to stay in their Manhattan villa and since she couldn't be alone, he did the same.

He never expected to fall in love when he arrived.

"You must just be jealous," Harper told the queen bee. "I bet you wish we never broken up before."

Surprisingly enough, Harper and Claire previously dated but broken up to the unknown. Bryn and Claire had become great friends throughout those months of their togetherness. It'd been nice but didn't last long enough to make it to a year before Tinsley returned to the picture.

Claire snapped and eventually traded her sweetheart-self for what she is today.

Claire rolls her eyes. "Please," she spat. "if I were still upset, I wouldn't even be talking to you. I'm past it Harper. But apparently, you aren't."

Harper smirks, looking so much like Bryn. It was almost scary to see the rage he could muster since his heart usually exceeded over it in her view. "I've never been so glad to be over someone as bitchy as you."

Claire literally thought her heart stopped when Harper said that. She hasn't heard him utter an insult in so long and was just too shocked to say more. Should she be happy his first curse went to her or angry he called her a bitch in the first place when she was only trying to help?

Before Claire could open her mouth, he was already halfway down the hall and not looking back with only an unfading smirk in response.

She didn't run after him screaming like a fool, didn't pluck off one of her Manolos and chuck it, and certainly didn't reply. Claire only sought a smile and once he rounded the hall, she applauds for a moment and returns to class.

And when passing Vena, she slid a hand behind her back and flipped Vena the bird.

Claire manages to hide a grin as she returns to her clique, each bombing her with questions, ones not even unrelated to the current situation. She acts as she's supposed to and answers every question with syrupy words and generous tips on how they could apply makeup and dress appropriately because compared to her, they were Cinderella's little helper mice.

She's the best actress at school.

All she needed was an Emmy.

**X**

Matt throws his cigarette into the dirt and crushes it under his sneakers, kicking its remains. He sits on the bench, Starbucks cup on his knee. Some others in the courtyard. The guys currently engage in football in which the British exchange student kept chiding them for wrong pronunciation of soccer.

Steven in his baseball cap and dirty school uniform, tosses the football over someone's denim-clad shoulder to a blonde that ran for the goal. Before he had a chance to score, he was tackled to the dirt, staining his white shirt. Steven burst into hysterical laughter, holding his ribs as he fell to his knees with others joining in.

Matt smiles as the dirtied football player stood, dusting off his shoulders. Steven quit laughing and also steadied himself, running to the football and nabbing it with a grin. He threw it in the air enthusiastically and spun the ball in his hands.

He watches the group before lighting another cigarette. Despite his image and the impression he gave off, he wasn't as violent as the others. He didn't need to be aggressive like William or as badass-popular as Saul because he had his own … touch.

"Uh, 'scuse me," a boy calls from a close distance. He slowly turns to see a timid-looking schoolboy. He was tan and had dark hair, big hands for someone his size, and bitten nails. "Mind if I sit?"

Matt blinks from behind his shades and turns back to the game. "Yeah, whatever."

The subject of Bryn and Steven suddenly came to mind. Steven told him many times he liked Bryn from the first time he saw her, her band the opening act for theirs back then as she fumbled to learn the nicest rock hits.

Honestly, he didn't have a problem with Bryn's actions because she did them without regret or permission. Something that he'd never be allowed to do with his mother.

He sees a bit of himself in her. When he was thirteen, he took a variety of trains and slept in a motel in Queens to live a day in the life of a rock-star, smoking pot and chugging beer with some random kids that he discovered outside Rodney's.

His parents were furious but he was too stoned to give a damn. He drank until he passed out beside a crack pipe and the other kids. The next morning, he was recovering from a hangover by downing enzymes with what he thought was water and called his father, who scolded him for hours. He listened shortly before ending the call to smoke. When he returned home, he was greeted with the chiding of a lifetime from his mother.

He was a druggie back then to the point of insanity but isn't as bad as he once was. He smokes illegally but not as much as Steven and the others. Cigarettes were the only thing he smoked nowadays.

And Steven was like his brother so he wasn't necessarily thrilled to see him stick dirty needles into his veins.

Bryn only smoked joints casually so that didn't bother him much since she also knew her limits between cigarettes and drugs.

It was something else for sure.

"Hey, I think your friend is calling you," The shy boy points at a stupidly grinning Steven, baseball cap tilted, blazer and tie thrown aside. Steven's friendliness replaced with impatience. He knew he'd run over, knock the cigarette out of his hand, and drag him to the group.

He chuckles at the thought and shrugs off his own blazer, rolling his sleeves and but before heading over, he stops before the dark-haired boy.

Matt smiles like he sees his friends do. "Hey," he calls, the boy's gaze immediately on him. "Why don't you come for a game? We could always use an extra player."

It took the guy a moment before he stood. "Yeah … okay."

The guy follows like a lost duckling before he calls over. "Hey, what's your name?"

Matt stops in his tracks and turns back around. No one's asked him that in a long time. "Stradlin. Matt Stradlin. You?"

"James Carter." James advises, holding out his hand in a proper handshake. "Cool to meet ya."

Instead of a handshake, he claps James's shoulder, his palm falling eventually. "Back at 'cha. Try not to let Steven bother you. He's … Steven."

"Matt! If you don't hurry, I will beat the living _hell _out of you! Come _on_!"

James scratches his hair sheepishly. "I doubt that'll be possible."

**X**

**School days! School days! I'm startin' to slip, I'm losin' my mind!**

**If any of you idiots didn't realize those were lyrics to a Joan Jett song. I'm gonna drop some gossip dynamite. Just kidding! I'm currently useless. This happens to be my intro because I haven't necessarily dropped my first stories yet and you all probably have no idea who I am … yet. **

**I'm the one-and-only **_**Gossip Bee**_ **fluttering around and delivering juicy, honeyed gossip to my beautiful population of non-secretive bees.**

**Right now, I have all day to fill you all with some sweet, **_**sweet**_ **gossip.**

**Bitch Fight of the Year**

_**Rocker B **_**has gotten into a fight with **_**F**_**'s ex. First-class wife-beater, Thomas Walker. I give you his full name so you can go pelt him with your vintage snakeskin boots and in **_**S**_**'s case, his prized, thousand-dollar, Led Zeppelin-signed Gibson. I would certainly sell tickets for that. Anyone care to buy me a large bucket of fatty-smothered popcorn?**

**Spotted:** _**H **_**walking through Central Park afterschool with **_**V **_**practically glued to his arm. It was funny because one of **_**C**_**'s many worker bees stuck out her leg and tripped **_**V **_**and gave her a bad fall (FAIL) to the concrete. Yes, it sounds mean but from what I hear, she deserved it. **_**H **_**just managing to hide laughter because he looked like he'd burst into teary chuckles any second. Go back to the dentist with your horse teeth, **_**V**_**.** **Nothing could fix that overbite.**

**So the ending of September is near and out goes the boring first month of school and in comes October, month of tricks and treats. Little kiddies roaming the streets, ringing strangers' doorbells, and getting those foiled Hersheys you can never get enough of. I'd much rather get a box of Godiva truffles rather than a few melted chocolates you find in the bargain bins of Rite-Aid.**

**Remember carve pumpkins soon because I'm doing it as we speak. Early Halloween spirit! My birthday's on Mischief Day. As I speak **_**again**_**,**_** Rocker B **_**is ditching Rodney's for Antonio's bar.**

**Dear GB,  
Bee lady, you sure you aren't Bryn or something because you both like old-ass rock, both go to Antonio's bar, and your birthdays are both in October? Coincidence? - Peaches17 **

**Dear Peaches17,  
Coincidence, yes, but – **_**no**_**, I am not, **_**Rocker B**_** – and if I was I'd be hooking up with **_**S **_**by now because he's to me the hottest in St. Jude's.**

**Dear Bee-Bee,  
hey there, gossip bee! I saw **_**H **_**walking through Central Park and could've sworn I saw him buy a dime bag. Since when does he do joints like the rest of us?  
- Princess of Diamonds **

**Dear Princess of Diamonds,  
BTW, I like the name. But, **_**H**_**? As far as I know **_**H **_**never touched a pipe or bag, I'll have to investigate more on this. **

**Kisses and disses, Gossip Bee**

**X**

Bryn tunes her guitar and replaces its strings. She starts the cords of a Joan-classic, mastering it before depositing her guitar in its case, shutting it with a click of automatic locks. She rakes nails through her shag, buckles her leather boots, and stares at her unmade bed. Shoves her pillow aside, grabs two Marlboro packs from underneath, and stuffs them in her boots.

She only felt good when she looked like this. Shag, leather, and shimmering studs, dark makeup and red lipstick like a true rocker. Especially with her guitar strapped to her back. Very Dita Von Teese meets KISS.

When she casts notes she knew everything would change, her longing for pot would be gone when she was onstage, screaming into the microphone and channeling David Bowie.

Bryn went to her vanity, chose an indigo eye-pencil and ran its tip along her lower lid, winging it and applying glittery smoke eyeshadow to her eyelids. A gift from Angelina for her sixteenth birthday – a whole set of dark glittery eyeshadows, various shades of blues and purples. She always loved the gifts that friends gave her because they were the few who knew her best.

She took a crumpled Chinese takeout receipt off her dresser and wrote on it with her eye-pencil. She descends the stairs with her guitar, ankle still pained. Set the note on the couch, snatched her keys, and left with a slam of a door.

The note said in messy handwriting: _off to Flor's call you l8r._

Bryn slid into the waiting limo. The family chauffeur tips his hat in the rearview mirror. "Where to?"

Bryn grins, placing her guitar in her lap. "Antonio's bar." she answers. "If Harper asks, tell him I'm in Brooklyn."

The man doesn't reply. Well-used to her infamous white lies.

**X**

Dean Howlett accepts a mug and a mouthful of boiling espresso, unfazed by the heat on his tongue. He was sitting in Antonio's bar, who in his late-fifties, has had the bar open for thirty years though it may not be as popular as Rodney's, he still makes a good share.

The bar was very old-fashioned. Rusty bells dangle from the doorways, classic rock plays from loudspeakers. The dancefloor and stage were wide-spaced and Elvis and Beatles LPs were stacked close by. Velvet red curtains hung low and were split to give a glimpse of a cluttered backstage. Antonio was past renovation and since the place hasn't had change since the mid-80's, he doesn't like to move furniture or toss treasured antiques.

Dean ran a hand through his hair, sliding his mug back to the server, who refills his cup without hesitation before directing it back with a smile. Dean sits in Antonio's bar every evening for a few cups and to watch lame rock performances, which were usually boring but new bands hit the stage each week.

It was better than watching reruns of _Friends_ all day.

Bells taped above the door rang as someone came in. Dean swivels in his ottoman to see who entered. He saw a girl with dark hair and piercing blue eyes in black denim and leather boots. In her hand was a gig bag as she waves to Antonio, heading over to him while he sat at a table by himself, slurping spaghetti with vodka sauce.

"Yo, Antonio," she greets over Joey Ramone's voice. "What up, man? I was wondering if I could play tonight."

Antonio lowers his fork and grins. "Of course, my dear." he says and grins, pointing toward the stage with a finger. "You may have to go after another band because … you know, they're new. New bands sure love to get booked here before they ditch my dump for Rodney's."

Antonio and Rodney were high-school rivals back in the day with competitions from downing entire kegs to hair growth. Their biggest competition ended after a decade and was the challenge of who could raise a better business – Rodney won for his club. Since then, Antonio and Rodney have considered one another enemies.

The girl smiles comfortingly and pats the old man's knee with a half-gloved hand. "I don't think that." she admits and places her guitar on the chair across from him. "I still love this place and all the others who come here, too."

Antonio chuckles and cradles his potbelly. "Thanks." he replies with a hearty grin and wipes his mouth. "head on backstage and go start the show because these kids are taking too long …"

Her smile never fell as she hoists her guitar onto her back and vanished through the curtains.

Dean finally decides to intervene when he saw her leave. "Hey, Antonio. Who's she?"

Antonio sips his wine and dabs his face. "She, my friend, is the next Joan Jett … Bryn Blackwell."

**X**

Bryn finds herself space on the creaky wood and slides her guitar into her lap. She inspects her nails: chipped polish, ragged cuticles, and two rose gold bands mounted with tiny diamonds. Her parents' wedding rings. They spent a week orbiting each other while they finalized their divorce. They were ready to pawn the rings but she'd whisked them away before they ever found the chance.

They spat while packing their bags, anger igniting between them like a forgotten match. These thoughts usually came to her when she was alone. About her parents, the past, pinpoints of the present, exes, bad romance experiences. They always came to make her sad but music was her muse. Nothing could make her sad when Joan Jett and Debbie Harry lived.

Playing stray cords, popping glass made Bryn raise a brow and lower her guitar. She saunters closer to a door backstage. The noise grew louder and the door flew open, almost catching her in the face as a young girl storms past.

Her choppy pageboy was messy and a shell purse was tucked under one arm while she bore a tight-lipped scowl. She shoves past Bryn and threw her guitar off a stand, probably thinking it belonged to someone else.

Bryn took her lighter out and threw it at the girl, rage straining her face. "Watch it, bitch! Gibsons are expensive and if you broke it, you gotta pay me for a new one!" she snarls as the girl whips back around. "Don't think I'm lying, broke-ass punk!"

The girl didn't meet Bryn's gaze before she fled.

Bryn sighs and goes to inspect her guitar. The neck was crooked and one string was broken. Bryn shook her head, cursing and steadying her guitar. "If I ever see that bitch again, I'll beat the living …"

"Oh, man! I can't believe Catherin left!"

"Well, Marcus, you were the one to get her mad."

"It's not my fault she can't play in the right key …"

"Whatever, just quit it! I guess we can't play tonight after all."

Three guys appear with instruments, the one Bryn assumed to be Marcus dropped to the floor beside her. His black hair streaked silver went with his sea green eyes and freckled tan. He shut his eyes only to reopen them to stare at Bryn. "Hey," he spoke with immediate sincerity. "I'm not in your space or anything, right?"

Bryn smiles. Finally! Someone who'd show her respect. "Not at all," she advises, observing her guitar. "I'm just … peeved. This chick came over and knocked down my guitar."

"Hmm," another muses. He had a tattoo of an anatomic heart in the crook of his elbow, wore Ray Ban eyeglasses. His rapt brown eyes seeming to enlarge behind them as he leans over his black Thunderbird. "It must've been Catherin because she stormed off rather dramatically."

"I kinda noticed." Bryn turns to who completes the group. A boy with jet black hair that had an auburn overtone, a few strands hung over his hazel eyes and down his nape. He had a scar on his jaw and grins at Bryn. She mimicks it and eyes his gray guitar. "Man, is _that_ a Gibson? That's awesome I have one, too." She displays her guitar to him.

His eyes glint as he looks over her guitar. "Now, _that_'_s _a guitar! Mine's dead compared to that! It looks like Joan Jett's when she went solo! Fucking _awesome_!"

Bryn stood to clean off her pants. "It may look good but if you drop it - it'll just shatter."

He waves a gloved hand in her face. "Same with mine. Come on, we all know Gibsons are fragile because I only busted my fingers twenty times."

Bryn beams knowingly. "Me too!"

Marcus rolls his eyes, sits straighter, and drops his drumsticks on a loudspeaker behind him. "As much as I hate to interrupt this important convo, we can't play. Catherin quit so we gotta get home."

The boy in Ray Bans had to sigh. "It's true," he admits shamefully. "Let's go, Marcus. You too, Landon."

Landon turns from Bryn sadly. "Ah, man. Sorry."

When they all turned to leave, she couldn't stop herself. "Guys!" she calls, feeling her cheeks heat when they went to stop. "Do any of you know … um, Joan or Sex Pistols songs?"

Marcus begun to laugh. "Do we _know _her songs? Practically all of them!"

Bryn's smirk returned but slowly. "Why don't we collaborate, then?"

Adam steps away from his band and reaches for Bryn's hand in a handshake. Not even stopping to think. It reminded her of herself. "You got yourself a deal."

"Why don't you at least tell us your name, kid?" Landon asks, snatching a cigarette from an open pack on a bongo drum and lighting it with ease.

Bryn slid her hand from Adam's and tilted her head, doing her best Lita. "Bryn Blackwell at your service."

**X**

"Get ready for some supersonic thunder!" Antonio announces, holding the microphone high. "Let's prepare for Bryn and our debutantes, The Raw Roses!" Antonio finishes off to an ovation as he slid offstage, hooking the microphone back onto a stand.

Adam, Landon, and Marcus got onstage first, holding their instruments pridefully. Marcus behind the drums, counts off the song. Bryn appears onstage without her broken guitar but a microphone, eyes gleaming like pearls.

She admires the crowd, miniscule and wonderful. All eyes fixed on them and just suddenly she wanted this back. Her heart swirling in her ribcage through an explosion of adrenaline.

Bryn ran her hand along her leather-clad thigh and screams into the mike. "You ready for some rock-and-roll?"

The roar of the crowd burns her ears and Adam smiles, fingers thrashing bass strings. Bryn jumps in excitement, beginning to laugh, cups a hand around her ear and leans into the crowd. "Can't hear yoooou!" she coos. "now, are you ready for some _rock_-_and_-_roll_?"

The screams this time were deafening. Antonio plugs an ear and begun to laugh.

Bryn was oblivious to the noise. "That's what I like to here!"

The others join in and Bryn felt her heart chill as she went to untangle the wires. She took deep breaths, shut her eyes, and begun her favorite rock classic. Their beats were absorbing and she could easily mistaken them for the real Blackhearts if she were on something.

She watches Adam sway and Landon grin as he didn't miss a beat when he closed in on her. Bryn's face lit as she mirrors him. Pointing at Adam, Landon, and Marcus in that order as they strike dorky poses to her hands.

Bryn leans into Landon, lyrics flowing like memories. She winds the cord up and around her thigh before slinging it downward. The guys chorus in like a flawless choir.

She hid her smile and extends her hand to graze the hands of the audience. "_We gotta live together!_"

Dean stirs his coffee. Bryn Blackwell? Didn't she go to Constance and get into some fight with a guy? Not that he cared. He'd just rather not see a girl get hurt.

Bryn did remind him of the singer he saw at Rodney's with the all-girl band – The Heartbreakers, wasn't it? Yeah. Lila Thorn. Javier continuously droned on about, saying how she was practically in his lap. He didn't believe a word that loser said. He was lower than the filthiest slums of Brooklyn.

Bryn and Tinsley were supposedly friends. A story going around was that Bryn nearly set her aflame with a cigarette. He wasn't sure if it was a rumor or not but it was certainly a trip and was definitely something that made the guys like her spunk. Especially since she was one of the most unavailable girls to get.

Dean turns to see a girl staring at Bryn. Her hair obviously dyed seeing as her roots were distinctly red. Gauze was taped to her knees. She wore purple moccasins and a leather jacket with fringed sleeves. Floria.

Another girl was beside her. Lila Thorn's bassist, Angelina.

Bryn swings the microphone around like a lasso and laughs into it. One of the guys accenting her voice.

She was ecstatic to be having fun again. With Floria, Angelina, and Hayden, it was all business but with the guys she was jumping around in modest excitement and was glad to. This is was what she needed.

Marcus pounds his drums, sounding as sick as Grohl. He bobs his head and never misses a beat.

The guys once more intervene in jazzy tones. Bryn nods to their angry man falsettos and for lack of better word, she had to admit they were perfect.

Angelina's hurt replaced itself with anger. "I can't believe her shit, man," she told Floria, holding a tumbler of orange soda in a hard fist. "She's betraying us here …"

Despite wanting to agree, Floria was still.

She spun on her heel to face Adam. He, however, wasn't looking at anyone, watching his guitar as if he didn't know what would come next. He always seemed alert with his instrument. While Marcus continued, Bryn ran center-stage, waving the mike overhead. "Everybody now!"

She couldn't help but be shocked at how they knew her music but was even happier when she knew the Blackhearts had more lovers.

Marcus finishes with a clash of cymbals, pointing upward and grinning.

The song finished and the music died down together. Bryn blinks at the silence and returns the mike, biting her lip. They didn't like it? That couldn't be.

But before Bryn could attempt to break the silence, whistles and howls took the air. People applaud and others wave overhead but it was just what they needed to begin cheering of their own.

She wanted a band like this. Wanted to go back to the old days where she performed here when Antonio's wasn't as popular. She met Hayden here, smoking pot with a few guys, playing Iggy and Bowie numbers.

That's when she would get tremendous applause like this. Sure, Rodney's was nice but the people were violent and their signs of appreciations weren't as grand.

Here, they screamed for encores but at Rodney's they couldn't wait until she got offstage.

Going back to the old days didn't seem so bad anymore.

The group sang a couple of Blondie classics before they left stage. Bryn collapses against a speaker, lighting a cigarette as Landon came over and stole her pack of Marlboros, exchanging it with a strange blue box.

"Try those. They're better."

Bryn stubs hers and tosses it over her shoulder and lit one of Landon's, taking in a lungful. They _were_. Bryn smiles. "They're the shit, man,"

"I hope you realize smoking is bad for you." Adam quips. "It reduces your life of eleven minutes with each intake."

Bryn rolls her eyes. "Fascinating."

Marcus scoffs. "Bull, Adam! You smoked nearly fifteen packs back in the day so _I_ wouldn't be talking."

"And plus, man," Bryn adds. "I smoked tons of packs my whole life so I guess I'll be dead by the time I'm twenty-seven like Jim Morrison."

"Race you to the heaven."

"Definitely."

Worn heels clack on the wooden floors as Angelina steps over to Bryn, lodging her heel into her left knee, Bryn didn't look the slightest fazed. She had taken worse. "Yes?"

"What the _fuck_ is your problem, Bryn?" Angelina screams, jabbing an accusing thumb at her chin. "We're in a damn band together! And you're over here singing with these lowlifes? You're betraying me and Floria and Hay –"

A frown creased her forehead and she waves dumbly. "Hayden quit this morning. Gotta catch up, Ang."

Angelina's hatred grew. Why was she acting so cruel? How could she betray them like this? She was their friend – _companion_! "Well, you know what? Until then Floria and I are _out_ so think about what you haven't done until then! I'll come back when you finally realize what's wrong with your dumbass head!"

Bryn blinks and her smirk drops. Floria was leaving, too? Her good dream had just suddenly become a nightmare. Floria was her best friend and now _this_.

Before she could answer, Angelina storms out and shoves her way outside.

Bryn stares ahead, expecting her friends to return, saying that what they just did was some sick joke but … nothing. Her spine hunched and she put her elbow on her now-bruised leg. Vision blurring wetly, shoulders rising and dropping harshly, her breath hardening and she knew it wasn't from the smoke she inhaled.

Bryn didn't meet any gaze, ran her fingertips along the cracked timber, searching for her guitar carrier or Gibson to get the hell out.

Before she could move her nimble fingers further, a hand caught hers. Her sad gaze went to Marcus, his eyes gentle with sympathy as he caressed her cheek, noticing her tears. "You know … it's okay." he assures. "While watching you get fired from your own band, I made a proposition."

Bryn sniffles and a cold tear met her jawline. "I'd love to hear it," she murmurs, biting her chapped lip.

Just before Marcus could reply, Landon steps in. "Why not join our band?"

Bryn didn't know if the tears were of happiness or misery but she considered them both when she nodded and started to dry-sob. "I would love to!" she howls and they laugh at the silent joke. "I'd fucking love to!"

**X**

After finally returning home to an additional week of punishment, Bryn marches through Constance, wearing a leather jacket and silver dog-tags over her uniform shirt. She passes girls she knew and bumps knuckles. Glittery eyeshadow cloaks her lids, black mascara coats her lashes, red gloss on her mouth, and imitating her idol as she should be.

Some gossip has been traveling about the new girl, Vena, saying she has a grudge against Claire and Bryn's sometime companion/occasional queen bee, Tinsley. She didn't care much. It wasn't too interesting. They'd probably only share insults and spread petty rumors.

Bryn walks past lockers and other classes with a solemn face. People always say when your face is serious. It means you're hiding something.

Which is entirely true. She hid many things about her life. She was very secluded but sure didn't need to hide her Joan-scream. Who would?

About to round another corner, Bryn stops to hear familiarity.

"That bitch Tinsley will pay. She got me kicked out of school, so it's my turn for revenge." Bryn spies Vena from behind a locker corner. She was speaking with a redhead, maybe a double-agent clique girl. "She embarrassed me and I barely got back into this school of idiots. I'll make her life miserable. I swear it."

Oddly enough, Bryn thought it sounded like something she'd say.

Come on people, she's not _that _cruel.

Bryn raises a brow and continues to eavesdrop. She knew she couldn't trust the girl, just by her name and that hair of hers. No one could have hair _that _perfect unless it were a celebrity's.

Vena sneers at the thought of the blonde. "So here's the plan …" She approaches the redhead and cups her manicured nails over her ear, murmuring so secretly not even Bryn could hear. "Good enough, Kathy?"

Kathy smirks and nods. "Perfect."

Bryn frowns and smacks her boot loud enough to sound as if she were walking closer before actually appearing. "Hey," Bryn greets, expressionlessly but with an unusual smile.

Vena's face lit with faux happiness and she ran to Bryn, crushing her in an embrace that could dislocate a shoulder. Bryn didn't return the hug, only glares over her shoulder at her sidekick, signifying with her eyes to leave. Kathy takes the hint. "It's so nice to meet you!" Vena croons, uncoiling her arms from around the rebel. "Harper has told me a lot about you!"

Bryn rolls her eyes. "Good to hear."

Vena forces a grin. "We should definitely go out for lunch sometime. It'll definitely be fantastic!"

"I'm sure it will."

Bryn could only imagine her dumping a bottle of Ambien into her espresso.

"The Wright has most of the best, really."

"So I've heard."

Before Vena could reply anymore, Bryn grins evilly. "As much as I'd love to stay," she spit through clenched teeth. "I have to go meet someone actually important. Talk to you never, _darling_."

She twists on her heels down an opposite corridor and Bryn heard her murmur something profound as she was barely out of sight.

Then leans back and clicks her tongue as if to change her wording. "Whore!"

Vena whips around but couldn't see where Bryn had gone when she was already out of school.

She'd go tell the only one who'd believe her.

Matthew Stradlin.

Of course, she couldn't have trusted Vena but it was worth a shot. Everyone gets at least one percent of truth in her vote.

Bryn moves as quickly as her beaten Urban Outfitter boots allow her. Her mother always complained about why she still decided to wear the raggedy boots, instead of a pair of cute heels or sensible flats. But to her, it was a way of self-expression.

A way to tell Constance Billard and the rest of the Upper East Side to fuck off.

The petite rebel walks across the courtyard to the boy's half of school. Once she made it through the ivory doors, she could feel countless of eyes on her. It wasn't an unusual thing.

She didn't care, though. She just wanted to talk to the one person who'd believe her. And there he was.

Matt was running a hand through his tousled brown locks. Around him were Steven and a couple of other guys though Matt didn't seem to be paying attention to what they were saying.

"Matt!" Bryn calls as she marches over to his locker. His dark green eyes opening widely as he slams his locker shut. "I need to talk to you. Now."

"What's up, Bryn?" Steven coos as beat his hands against his locker. "Wanna join us in lighting this joint?" He shoves the joint over to her eyes and she motions his hands back, Matt gives him one of his casual _what the hell _looks.

Bryn smiles through her teeth. "Now, as much as I'd like to do that. Can I talk to Matt for a minute?"

"Sure." Steven says as he leans against his own locker, eyes wandering between his two friends.

"I sort of meant alone. Just me and Matt."

"Oooh!" Steven says and stood straighter. His face becoming goofy as he did, Bryn kind-of suspected that he was already high. "Why didn't you just say so?"

Matt looks over her as he shook his head, making sure Steven had gone a good distance away. "Sorry about him. He already smoked a joint before coming to school."

"I sort of suspected."

"So what's up?" Matt asks as he reclines his head back against his dark blue locker. It made the green of his eyes appear brighter in the sunlight pouring from the windows.

"Well, this is going to seem crazy. But, I overheard that Vena-chick talking about Tinsley. I don't think she's as sweet as she seems."

"Since when do you care about Tinsley?" Matt asks. "Wasn't it a couple of days ago that you almost burned her with a cigarette?"

Bryn looks up at him, confused. What was coming out of his mouth? This was her Matt. The same Matt that would believe and defend her even when she was absolutely guilty.

"Bryn, how am I even supposed to believe this? You know, Vena's a pretty awesome girl. She likes my band and she's funny. I'm not Harper. I can tell when you're trying to ruin something."

"That's not what I'm doing! I'm trying to protect you from that bitch!"

"Look, I'm going head out and clear my head." Matt says and grabs his book bag off the marble floor. "You know, it's a real shame that you're acting so immature. Vena really seems to like you."

Matt walks away and Bryn turns to watch him outside. When he reached halfway, a smiling Vena appeared in the courtyard. Matt and she seemed to have a happy conversation as his crooked smile came on. Vena places a spindly hand on his elbow and looks back.

A glare was targeted straight for her.

Bryn watches as they walk out into Park Avenue. Tears brimming.

She quickly wipes them and kicks his locker as she walks off.

**X**

**I hope you all liked this long chapter. It took awhile and practically most of the main characters of the story appeared except for Bryn's new band. They're rather recurring but Angelina and Floria have bigger appearances than them.**

**This chapter is dedicated to GossipQueen101 for making the Stradlin/Bryn argument and an awesome cast picture, I wanted to give you the biggest thanks!**

**But the next chapter may not appear until another weekend or two and should have more drama then the last.**


	5. Chapter 5

Another cigarette.

_Good thing_,_ Rodney was drunk_.

Bryn lights a cigarette, doesn't inhale the usual lungful before she stubs it out beneath her heels, discarding it into another heap once lit. Used Camels and incompetent lighters reside on the hard-packed dirt. After she lit again, she thumped her cigarette across the waste violently and was ready to continue but realized her actions were paused when someone caught her wrist.

With scowls dinting her forehead, Bryn is met with sapphire eyes in wayfarers, a dimpled smile, and slim eyebrows. "Wasting a perfectly good cigarette, Bryn?" he teases, sweeping a hand through his hair. "Doesn't seem like you." He sat beside her, crossing his ankles and releasing her wrist.

Bryn shook her head and rubs an eyelid, smudging her eyeshadow. "I'm just … tired." she lies, adding a fake yawn for emphasis. "The Heartbreakers and I kinda disbanded yesterday."

The boy's face softens in concern and his smile fell. "Oh, I'm sorry, Bryn." he replies and ran a hand up her arm, halting at her shoulder. Bryn kept a stern face but anyone in their right mind would be able to see through. She was hurt and despite adoring her band more than any guitar, it looked like something else was in her thoughts. "Why don't you tell me what else happened now?"

Bryn reaches for another cigarette but his hand retook her own. His eyebrows rose until gone in his choppy bangs and finally yielding to his seriousness, she met her brother's eyes. The frowns on her forehead lighten and disappear. "There's a new bitch in town, Harper." she admits, jerking her hand from his. "And she said a whole load of bull about Tinsley and –"

Harper waves in Bryn's face. "Wait, wait ..." he interjects, discontinuing Bryn's monologue. "don't you hate Tinsley? I kind-of figured since you stubbed your cigarette on her."

Bryn scowls and kicks an old cigarette away from her brother's sneaker. "I do." she advises, pointing a nail and narrowing her eyes like a tiger cub. "But, you don't see me going around, saying she's some stupid blonde bitch."

Harper sighs and notices Bryn staring over his shoulder, her dark eyes never waif from beyond him. He blinks and peers over his shoulder, a reflection of the sun on his shades.

Matthew and a girl with obsidian tresses spoke. He figured she was Vena. Matt smiles ominously as he remains with Vena and from beneath the table, their fingers were twined. Bryn looked like she'd puke any moment, then claw and attack and rip Vena's throat out.

"Disgusting," Bryn snarls, stands, and brings her bag to her shoulders. "I skipped last period and I'm totally starving. Wanna go get lunch?"

Harper blinks and took a minute to process what she'd said before frowning. "I'm kinda … going out to lunch with Tinsley. But I'll –"

Bryn smiles, waves him off. "Chill, Harper." she reassures, interrupting with a backhanded wave. "It happens. We'll meet up later."

Harper looked suspicious but took her word for it. "Alright," he agrees, reluctantly. "I'll hold you to that."

Bryn salutes and flips strands off her shoulders before heading out into the crowd, without another returning glance.

Harper watches until she disappears. She was like their father. Fearless, audacious, and never giving a spontaneous fuck – that was Bryn, alright.

And he was glad for it.

**X**

Matt held Vena's hand, his gaze never falling from hers. He was always unbelievably zealous. He felt the impulse to smoke but didn't want to leave Vena. She was different and he liked that in a girl. Many girls he knew like Bryn were different and their bassist/friend, Floria, was also.

But he could never date Bryn. Not ever. The world would become _2012_ if that occurred. He'd consider Floria because she's cool and one hell of a bassist. He could never imagine Bryn and Steven as a couple because as much as he hates to admit it – it was sickening.

Steven and Bryn were like siblings to him and if you could imagine them dating, it'd sound like the plot of a twisted novel. He was always sure Steven liked Bryn seeing as he'd do backflips for her yet he knew she didn't feel the same.

Most of the time, Steven was injecting needles into himself or popping pills but knew his limits and once he'd reach his coke-limit, he'd tell Matt to take any drug from him before any permanent damage could be done. Despite heeding his requests, Steven was usually so high and would challenge him for the meds he'd toss to where he'd once broken his nose for a pill he just managed to throw out a window.

Sure, he apologized afterward. But he'd still do his best to have him sober, especially in school, where he makes a complete fool of himself in front of Bryn. She didn't necessarily care because she knew Steven's sobriety issues around this time, smoking blunts with the unknown.

It was almost-humiliating to see someone get high in day because they'd be hungover by midnight.

Knowing Steven, he was usually too stoned to remember his own warnings.

Bryn did more minor drugs since he'd witnessed her first-and-last encounter with angel dust when someone spiked her drink at one of Rodney's after-parties. She was off-the-walls with drunken excitement. Steven, also drunk, chuckled the night away, holding his glass to bartenders every five minutes for a refill.

A loaded Bryn came to him, babbling nonsense and stopping to glare at Rodney's Parisian rug. He withdrew his glass as she rambled, demanding the carpet to stop breathing and everyone to quit looking like ghosts before she passed out. Matt glared at the smashed Steven so fiercely, he managed an apology.

Before either of them could worsen, he dragged them out the scene, which later became a terrible night for all because half the partiers had hangovers and were diagnosed with alcohol poisoning.

See what he had to go through?

"Bryn was saying the weirdest thing." Matt told Vena, loosening his hand in hers. "She said you said all these terrible things about Tinsley and were basically the devil woman. Weird, huh?"

Vena nods and her soft eyes narrow when Matt's hand evades her in an attempt to reclaim it. "Definitely." she agreed. "I mean, why would she say things like that? I would never be mean to Tinsley. She's one of my best friends."

Matt's smile doesn't fade when he meets Vena's gem blue eyes. "Yeah, that's nice. But she must've had a motive because she just doesn't go around saying things like that ... I'm gonna go, alright? I'll check if she's cool so I'll be seeing you."

Vena stood, catching his arm. "You shouldn't leave." she stats, kicking a crushed cola can. "Bryn will suspect you and will take advantage of you. You act like her father all the time."

Matt steps in and kicks the dirt. "Maybe because I have to. You ever get that?" he inquires, ice in his eyes. "If I didn't act like her brother all the time, she might not even be alive." He swung his bag over his shoulder and turns to leave but before he faces Vena. "Whether you care or not I'm going."

"Do whatever you like," she adds, feeling his arm freeze beneath her hand. "Just don't come crying to me when she takes advantage of you."

"Thanks for your support." he scoffs and wrenches his arm as he heads off.

Vena opens her mouth to speak but closes it. She was out of words. She watches Matt leave and slumps in her seat. He was really defensive over the crazy-haired, Steven and that punk-rock chick, Bryn. Why did he care about them, anyway? He wasn't even their real family. They were just addicted losers, who were probably used to him caring for.

Why?

Whatever. It didn't matter. She had better things to do like destroy reputations.

Because she knows for sure he'd return.

They all come crawling back and then she'll dump him once everyone is against them.

It's just that simple.

**X**

Hayden approaches Floria, the black dye in her hair diminished. Her natural red flared, sidebangs framed her forehead, an aqua blue cardigan enclosed over her blouse, a knobbed belt on her hips, and striped tights hid the gauze on her knees.

Hayden in a cheap skirt and biker gloves frowns at Floria. "Why you still with that look, man?" she sneers at her acquaintance. "Bryn ditched. You gotta get used to it. She has these new guys in her band and we could do without her."

Floria raises her sleeve when she submerges her hand in the fish tank in Science, reaching to grab the misshapen net. "I know." she answers, managing with the net before returning it to the surface. The fish hidden behind plastic coral and fake starfish reappear after her leave, swishing their fins. She dries her arm with paper towels and lowers her sleeve. "Still, we were only backup and never wrote songs, so everything belongs to her."

Hayden rolls her eyes and unravels the net, wringing it out. "'Pretty Vacant' doesn't." she indicates, throwing down the mesh. "That belongs to Sid and the Pistols. Duh."

Floria watches the fish zoom in thought. She remembers when it was easy, when she first met the Blackwells, when they moved to New York from Italy. Their English wasn't any good so they pronounced things wrong because of their accents. She aided them with their English and they lost them overtime and couldn't help but always joke with them over their slurs.

Floria nods at Hayden, still not meeting her eyes. "True." she responds after some time. "But I never really wrote a song. I only helped Bryn with one of hers, so I doubt we'll be able to do much."

Hayden narrows her eyes. Why were Angelina and Hayden so mad? Bryn was impulsive and did things without thinking at times but still had a conscience and knew when she's done something wrong. It didn't bother Floria as much as the others. She cared about Bryn and if she wasn't happy, she would've said so. It's not so bad to have collaboration songs with some guys but since Angelina spoke for her, she wasn't even a part of Bryn's band and their great singer completed something new.

And she couldn't help but miss her Gucci-wearing singer because she was the closest she had to a sister. She was close to Hayden and Angelina, too, but Bryn was the little girl she longed to protect.

Hayden scoffs. "We don't need her. Has that ever stopped Bowie? Give it a break, man."

Floria blinks and seizes the can of fish food and sprinkles some into the tank. "Guess I have no choice." Floria muses, watching the fish, raises her hand for the teacher's attention. The man turns from a cage holding lab rats. "Mr. Pierceton, may I go to the bathroom?"

Without answer, he returns to the cage, signaling a _yes_ to the clipboard. Still not meeting Hayden's gaze, Floria heads for the door and exits into the halls quietly.

Floria tosses loose strands from her eyes, leading herself down an empty marble hall. Her mind flushes with a sense of thoughts and ideas. It made her want to cry.

She had to get Bryn back somehow.

She just had to.

**X**

Bryn was out at her favorite deli on Madison and 86th. It was the only place that made her perfect Philly Cheese Steak with just the right amounts of onions, cheese, and meats. The girls at Constance were all on freaky diets and crazy exercise routines, so the thought of a carb-filled, cheese-covered sandwich wasn't exactly appealing.

Not that she gave a shit. She knew that she would burn it off the same way all rock goddesses did … with a good two hours of heavy rocking.

Nothing makes you fit into your Gucci leather pants like that.

"Well, well today must be my lucky day."

Bryn rolls her eyes at the familiarity in the voice. She quickly turns to see piercing eyes down on her. It _just_ happened to be Javier Dominguez.

"What do you want?" Bryn asks as she reaches into her tattered and spiked leather hobo bag. She pulls out a cigarette and places it to her cherry lips.

Javier suavely reaches into his khaki corduroys and pulls out his lighter (engraved in perfect script was a _JD_) lighting her cigarette.

"Thank you." Bryn says, rather annoyed as she began to walk up towards their schools though she could hear him behind her. "You know, I never quite thought of the infamous Javier Dominguez as one of those stalker-fan types."

"I'm usually not." he says as he stood before her. "But I have to make an expectation for the ridiculously intriguing Lila Thorn."

Bryn's eyes grew wide as she saw Javier's lips turn in a cocky, satisfied smile.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Bryn glares up at Javier. "But if I did, I would remember all about an arrogant asshole like you trying to snake your way into my panties."

"Well, a lot of girls actually like the whole asshole move."

"Oh, really?" Bryn asks, stepping closer to the handsome heartbreaker. She had to admit that Javier was actually really hot from the way his St. Jude's shirt hugged his biceps to his seductive green eyes. "Well, I'm not one of those girls."

"Really?"

"It's going to take a lot more than some suave talking and stalking to make me fall for you." Bryn said as she starts up the steps into their school. "Maybe you're better off with one of Claire's bimbos or a clueless tourist. I bet you'll be glad to show her the city."

"You know, I'd rather show you around." Bryn could feel her back against the marble handrails and his breath on her neck as his lips barely pressed to it. She closed her eyes, sort-of hoping he'd go further.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Bryn's opened her eyes to see Matt, stubble and rasp and all. His expression a mix of confusion, anger, and did she sense a hint of jealously?

_I sure did_.

"Nope, we were just ending." Bryn says with a twinge of venom. She glares at Javier as she pries his arm off hers.

"Well, if you want to continue this –" Javier reaches into his pocket and pulls out a card. It was typical for an Upper East Sider to carry around a personal business card. "Just give me a call. I'll be sure to make space for you."

Bryn would have normally kneed the hell out of a cocky asshole like Javier but couldn't help but actually find his flirting entertaining.

**X**

Once Matt saw Javier disappear in St. Jude's. He turns to a glaze-eyed Bryn as she smirks to herself, throwing the business card into the hedges. He could only wonder what she was thinking, probably about the Casanova that attempted to seduce the rock goddess she thought she was. Bryn was easily breakable and only few happened to know. He just happened to be one of the lucky ones.

The varnish was gone in her smile. "Hey, Matt, what's up? You seem awfully jealous."

Jealous? Jealous? He was for a fact not jealous. Well, it was half a lie – he wasn't jealous of Javier being with Bryn. God, no. He was only fuming because he would've gotten to spend time with Vena smoking and listening to her stories from the past. He couldn't because he worried for Bryn, worried she may one day risk her life.

Just the thought was creepy.

"I'm not jealous." he spat and saw Bryn lift a brow. She was shocked at his venom. What was his problem? He didn't need to be so cruel. "You're over here acting like a hooker. You may play one onstage but it don't mean you need to act like one offstage."

Bryn removes the cigarette from her mouth, breathing smoke. "Matt, if you're gonna call me a whore, just do it. Don't act like a poet."

"I'm not gonna say but don't trust that Javier. He's bad news."

Bryn looks toward the doors, then Matt. "I don't necessarily do." Bryn admits, remembering when his hand slid up her thigh when she was wearing the corset. "I promise nothing will happen between us. Plus, I have you and Steven. You guys pretty much count as bodyguards."

Matt smiles gently. "And the Heartbreakers."

Bryn's smile crumbles and she flicks her cigarette, her gaze on the concrete. She wasn't mad at him for bringing up her broken band because he didn't know but she couldn't help but feel sad at the thought of Angelina's anger and Floria's brokenness. Bryn sighs again before returning into Constance.

"Not anymore."

Matt frowns and raises a brow. "What?" When Bryn didn't turn, he considered going after her but knew she wouldn't give in. He could always pry the answer from Hayden or Floria. They weren't as stubborn.

But why was she so upset? It didn't seem like The Heartbreakers anymore.

He could swear on his life that he'd find out.

_Well_, _maybe not his life but you know what he means_.

**X**

Tinsley bit out of a romaine lettuce leaf from across Harper in a Madison Avenue café. His hair glistening golden in the sun and his eyes a scorching inferno of white-hot blues. God, he was gorgeous.

It was nice because no one could ever hold a grudge against Tinsley Hastings, could they?

Not in Vena's case. They were hidden enemies and sadly Harper was oblivious. Vena being her seductress self was acting like a peachy bitch by inviting her and Claire to brunch. Claire wasn't stupid but the opposite. She was the cunning ice queen.

"Thanks for coming today." Harper answers, stirring his black coffee. "Many girls have been awfully suspicious of Vena lately. She seems cool, don't you think?"

Tinsley uncaps her mineral water and downs a mouthful. He was caught in Vena's cobweb lies, too? Now, that was sad. One of the only sane Jude's boys was in her claws. She could only wonder what the devil child would do to him. She could soil his poor mind with brutality.

Tinsley lowers her water. "Vena isn't the sweetest person around. I think you should be cautious, Harper." the blonde told. "She isn't exactly trusting."

And that's putting it lightly.

Harper scowls in his coffee. "Not you, too," He sighs, shaking his head in shame. "out of all people, I never thought you'd be distrusting. Sometimes, I think you're just as immature as Claire." He took his messenger bag off a seat, swinging it across his back. Smacks his bulging leather wallet on the table. "I gotta go. Pay with this. There's enough for a tip, too. And don't bother paying me back. There's more where that came from."

He left her, eyes ahead until he took a turn, vanishing down the block. Tinsley slowly got up, requesting the check and forgetting her meal – she'd lost her appetite, anyway. She wasn't being immature, only trying to help. Vena would never change, no matter how many boarding schools she'd be kicked out of.

She'd have to draw in reinforcements. The only blackmailers she knew.

Yes, that means you, _Queen C_ and _Rocker B_.

**X**

**The whore, the bitch, and the hooker all combined into one.**

**The news going around is V is supposedly trying to seduce every rock in St. Jude's including the purest player, H, who practically lives on the field and is spending the second-most time with V from carrying her tacky Birkin to walking blocks to the coffee shop, where D always hangs to buy stale chocolate chip scones. Seriously, are you all sure she's a girl? Because I most certainly wouldn't eat a stale pastry without suing first.**

**Many are already setting carved pumpkins on their doorsteps and scarecrows on their lawns like good old-fashioned New Yorkers in the Halloween spirit. But, in advance, don't be scared if I don't leave note on October 30th (Not dead!) I'll be around Park Avenue, throwing eggs at your Mercedes-Benzes and tossing Christmas lights and toilet paper through those pretty autumn trees you've spent weeks perfecting.**

**And remember to get your costumes! It's the only time, where girls could dress like complete sluts and get away with it! So all you Constance girls get your seamstresses to make your sexiest, sluttiest, jaw-dropping genies, princesses, and fairies, so every guy around will be wanting more than your candy.**

**Sightings:**

_**Rocker B**_** standing outside Rodney's before walking to a vintage shop to check out new boots. **_**F**_** moping through Central Park, smoking joints she received from **_**A**_** earlier. Who would've ever thought she'd take a drug from **_**A**_**'s hands? **_**S**_** waiting outside Constance for **_**V**_** and ironically enough **_**Sweet T**_** was outside around the same time, looking for the infamous blackmailers to help get **_**V**_** out of her well-conditioned hair. But she was out of luck because **_**Queen C**_** was at a mani-pedi appointment and **_**Rocker B**_** was occupied with buying those limited-edition boots. Try again next time, **_**Sweet T**_**! The same has been happening with **_**D**_** and **_**J**_** because **_**D**_** heads to Antonio's for decaf and **_**J**_** is always leading another lucky lady into his penthouse suite. I say no more because we all know what happens there.**

**Dear Beebers,**

**What's up, bees? I saw you at Antonio's during the Rocker B and Raw Roses debut – I was wearing the striped polo and cargo shorts and was wondering if you'd like to go out with me because I think you're the hottest.**

**-Poloman9**

**Dear Poloman9,**

**I'll answer this with a plain no. And, polo and cargo shorts? Puke. Is that the best you can do?**

**Kisses and disses,** **Gossip Bee**

**X**

Bryn sits outside Constance, flicking her lighter on and off and watching the tiny flame. Harper always chose to take long when leaving school. He's probably not even in there. Maybe being stepped all over by Vena's trashy platforms.

It was cool how different their hearts were. He'd let someone step all over him and she would fight her way out. His heart was paper and hers was steel.

It wasn't very surprising the great Bryn Blackwell's heart was unbreakable. Maybe, because it was broken so many times it just got immune to the attacks? The heart wants what the heart wants or that's the overused quote that people use when they get dumped.

Well, I don't necessarily believe that's true but I know people like _D_ use those.

"Bryn!" a chiming voice calls from ahead. It wasn't Harper's and had a hint of a nervous soprano. Bryn switches off her lighter and pockets it, snapping forward with a deer's reflex to see Tinsley holding a muddle of college applications. She found Tinsley good-looking enough and much friendlier than Vena. Why was she getting used to this Barbie? She wasn't even dating her brother yet.

It'd be weird to imagine. Tinsley and Harper sound like they'd make a good couple with just the names. Anyone with her like Bryn and Derek or Bryn and Edward sound like they'd be a couple that would screw up within a week or two of being married but a couple like Tinsley and Harper would be wed for centuries.

It's sometimes bothersome to be a twin, especially when the complete opposite of yours.

When Tinsley made it to Bryn, she dug a hand through her bag, searching for the untouched joint Steven had given her. She managed to fish it out but decided not to light in front of Tinsley. Tinsley was urgent, a wishing to pour out her troubles. She circles her bangles awkwardly. "Bryn, I need your help. You seem like you're the only one who could."

"Never thought I'd hear the day. Cue the death march."

Who would've ever thought Tinsley would be begging for her help? The rocking rebel that set off a cigarette on her but had gotten what she deserved when Harper grounded her and gave her the ultimate punishment of not playing at Rodney's for three full weeks. She created the alter-ego with wash-out hair-dye and was never caught.

Ah, the life.

Tinsley brushes sweat off her brow, choosing the chase. "Harper's so naïve. No offense." She was relieved to see Bryn smirk and nod understandingly. "He met Vena and thinks she's a princess yet she's not. I need you to help me get her out of here."

Bryn nods again. Vena had gotten her brother? The bitch would pay and as long as she didn't get anyone else. It would be pretty. "I hate to say this. But revenge isn't really my specialty. We may need backup." Bryn breathes. "I'll do all I can but we need someone else," She retrieves her Blackberry, punching keys rapidly. "She's even better than me at the job."

Her phone chimes before receiving an answer on the third ring. "Hello?"

"Hey, Claire," Bryn says through her smirk. "let's collaborate."

**X**

After Harper returned home from practice, he threw his bag down and took off his hat, ruffling his hair until it took its usual tousle. Bryn ditched him earlier though he knew it was like her, she seemed busier than usual and said she'd be hanging with Claire and Tinsley. The two she hated most. Coincidence?

He didn't bother stopping her because he trusted her and she'd obviously say if she was going to do something to either of them. It was odd, even for her. The brutal slam of the door and a foreign swear interrupts his musing.

Harper heads for the stairs, standing at its foot was a bruised Bryn, throwing her gig bag down and wobbling to the steps. Ignoring her twin's prodding gaze as her shaking hand grazes the banister.

Her hair was unkempt and loose around her shoulders. Her clothes coated in sweat, dirt dredged her leather pants, and the sleeves of her jacket were torn, exposing small cuts and bruises. She bit her lip as if holding tears back as she passed. "Night." she mutters, Harper reaches for her arm but stops himself.

If he'd push, it'd become worse. So he'd stay shut for now. No need for extra-pressure.

He withdraws to his room as Bryn locks her own. The two instantly find sleep, throwing their troubles aside. Was it really right to stay in hectic New York? Constance and St. Jude's were just pooled with drama and emotions. Life's become so stress-inducing.

And bordering on 3 AM., Bryn's Blackberry vibrates on her ribs, waking her. She groggily checks the caller ID to see: _Steven is amazing_. His own editing when he'd found alone time with her phone. She blinks and rubs her eyes, accepting the call. "Yeah?"

Silence. Heavy breathing and rattling glass, more breathing, coughs. Bryn raises a brow, sits up in bed. Why was he calling this late? He usually knocks out around nine from the consistent drug use and alcohol consumption. "Hello, Steven?" Bryn calls. Louder. She silently hoped she wouldn't wake Harper or he'd be pretty annoyed seeing her on the phone this late.

"Help …" someone familiar gurgles. "help ..."

Bryn's blood froze to ice and she begun from her mattress, heading for the window to meet the black sky. "Steven!" Bryn demands harshly, a terrified look coming on. "Where are you? What happened?"

Another burble. "Home ..."

Bryn slid on her beaten boots, keeping the phone to her ear. "I'll be there!"

When she received no audible reply, she clicked _End_. Not even reaching for her coat before running out her room.

**X**

**Aw. Steven, I really like him so it's sad to do something bad to him.**

**So I published another chapter but this one is four thousand words shorter than the last and I was out for practically the whole day so this turned out to be a late update, it's almost midnight and I'm exhausted.**

**Here's an analysis for Gossip Bee's little names if anyone didn't realize.**

**Rocker B- Bryn  
H- Harper  
A- Steven  
S- Matt  
Queen C- Claire  
D- Dean  
J- Javier  
F- Floria  
Sweet T- Tinsley**


	6. Chapter 6

Bryn descends the stairs, stretching her tights up around her thighs. Hangs onto the banister for life and counts the steps to calm herself. She just finished rummaging through her room, searching for any sort of denser clothing to go outside with to ward off the cold but only succeeded in finding the filthy jacket she'd worn to practice earlier. It was completely ruined so there wasn't much use in it any longer.

While she was unsuccessful in that, she was rushing to Steven's apartment in her oldest Doc Martens and her pajamas (an autographed Girl in a Coma tee and gym shorts she's has since her stay in Italy.) She knew she looked like more of a mess than usual but Steven wouldn't just joke and say something like that. He wasn't _that _stupid.

She thought of flicking on a light but knew it'd wake one of the maids, which would wake Harper in a domino effect, who'd send her back to her room since she was still technically grounded. And who knows what would happen to Steven?

Bryn made it to the base of the stairs and grabs her keys, twisting the doorknob quietly. Allowing silver streaks of moonlight to pour inside before she slid out, shutting the door behind her, unnoticed.

The wind like she'd known was freezing and made her shiver as soon as she came out. It was as if her block was suddenly deserted in the ocean. She'd been smart enough to already call the family driver and the limo waited on the curb, saving her from running the cold streets. The gates were unlocked due to her forgetfulness but she'd secure them when she returned.

She ran to the limo and heard the driver unlock the doors. She fell in, collapsed in the dark leather, and slammed the door. The driver turns around, his face was dark in a forced smile. "Where to –"

"Steven's place!" Bryn commands, beating him to the question. "A block down from Antonio's bar! His building never has its lights on at night. Pretty much the projects. You _can_'_t_ miss it."

The man blinks at her franticness and drove out into the dark of the city, reaching the building in due time. As soon as she recognized his building, she left the car and hurried up the creaky steps while attempting to light one of the cigars she stole from her father's room. She made it to his door – the only way she knew it was his because of the _S.A _he carved in the grain when he first moved in so whenever he would get drunk he wouldn't forget it was his.

He'd already paid the fines for breaking windows for trying to get into his '_casa_.'

Bryn held the buzzer and grimaced at the noise. No one came to answer. Bryn rose a brow and pressed an ear to the door. Her fear overpowering might as she bit on her lower lip. She raps her knuckles along the wood. "Steven?" she calls and felt instantly useless at her tone. She needed to be louder but couldn't find her voice in this situation. "Come on, man. You're really freakin' me out now!"

If only Matt were here. He was better at punching sense into people than she was.

When she shook the doorknob, the door wheezed open. Bryn sighs, letting herself in and gagged at what she saw.

The house stank of cheap liquor, cigarettes buds spilt across the floors from numerous boxes, crushed beer and soda cans overflowing from a garbage bag in the main room. A hamper of dirty clothes and a jacket left in the path of the bathroom. Chip bags and candy wrappers littered the carpets. She maneuvers through the mess in disgust, checking the kitchen and bathroom to see only bigger messes. She approaches his bedroom and found various orange tablets on his bed, and finally Steven on the floor.

She held her chest in a hard fist. "Shit, it finally happened."

He was laid beside an empty Heineken bottle. His blonde hair matted across his sweaty forehead and one of his eyes half-open, the eyelid flickered desperately. He attempted to smile but couldn't. Bryn fought the urge to scream at just seeing him lying like a crippled man. She slowly knelt and was unfazed when she saw him in only a uniform shirt and boxers. Checked his wrists and touched her head to his chest for a heartbeat. Watching too much Grey's Anatomy might've just paid off.

His entire form wracked with shivers and he mumbled imperceptibly.

She shut her eyes tight, shakily got to her feet, and rooted through his dresser, just managing to find sweats. She righted him and helped him with them as his head lolled onto her shoulder, his breath rank. "Just kill –" He hacks onto her neck and she grabs his chin to direct him off. "The … pain."

She swung his lanky arm over her shoulder and fought to pull his motionless body up. She slouches and nearly collapses when his weight meets her. "It's alright," she coaxs like a mother would. "I'll get you to Lenox-Hill just help me here." Some of his weight shifted off her and she limped outside and carefully down the steps, feet quaking.

The chauffeur had gotten out and opened the door for her, stared at Steven but did not utter another word. He helped her with Steven the littlest he could. "Lenox-Hill?"

She nods, helping her limp friend into the back and shoving his legs back. "Please." The man rushes to his seat and Bryn returns in, shutting the door. She yanks Steven's head in her lap with a hopeful smile, scraping fingers through his hair. "It'll be okay, _Adler_." She thought his stage-name would make him smile but she received nothing, she sighs and tosses the cigar out the window. Her smile fades when she saw the hospital charging into view but the sight only brought relief.

As soon as they were parked in front, she races to the counter and left the driver to wait. An older woman held a phone to her ear and lowered it when she saw Bryn at her desk. "What do you need, dear? Visiting hours are –"

Bryn finished panting and nodded. "My friend … he's out and had an overdose or something … I just found him at his apartment and … someone has to get him before he gets worse. Please, _please_," The woman nods to her every word and her gaze suddenly became sympathetic.

"Alright, hon." she says with a nod, punching keys into her work phone, "We need nurses and a stretcher immediately. No, no, you can't get Taco Bell right now, Diane. This is an emergency."

Bryn wanted to smile but didn't have the power to. She watches two skinny nurses wheel a stretcher to the limo and grab Steven together before propping him onto the gurney.

She hurries to thank the receptionist and follows the nurses. She snuck a glance at Steven and observes him ruefully, feeling wetness on her cheeks. She made sure no one saw her tears before hurrying after the gurney and what her friend had become.

**X**

Javier lit one of his stripper's herbal cigarettes as he kicks the tin off his priceless coffee table. He had new girls in his penthouse every night but the only one he really desired was that Blackwell. Bryn Blackwell. Who he had the chance to seduce until her friend came around. What was his name? Bruce? Christian? It didn't matter. He had better things on his mind like trying to get Bryn to fall back into his arms. But as much as he wanted to continue his routine of meeting a girl, bringing her home, and dumping her shortly after.

He didn't want to do that with her. He dumped the casual girls that dressed the same, acted the same, and had the same annoying tones but she was different and he liked that.

He had to admire her for being daring enough to actually brush his hand when he attempted to seduce her when she was the one in the corset but he failed when she left him standing around like a fool. Either way he was pretty sure he'd see her again when she went out for lunch.

Are you wondering why the great Javier Dominguez is up with a meaningless slut? He had nothing better to do at 3 AM. Most of his 'friends' were sleeping and Claire was probably curling her hair or doing her nails like the priss she was.

We all know Claire may act like royalty but all know she isn't. She will never be as grand as the impeccable Lady Di or the beautiful and talented Grace, no matter how hard she wishes.

"Oh, Javi baby," the bottle blonde purrs, rubbing circles into his thigh suggestively. "Why don't we take this … somewhere else?"

Javier looked at her emotionlessly before sipping sweet wine. "No thanks," he answers with sarcastic politeness. "Maybe later or you can try the guys who live below. They'd fuck on a dime if they have to."

Instead of getting mad or offended like he expected her to, she shrugs and giggles, sliding on her cheap heels before skipping out the door. "Kay! Later, babe!" He made sure she was gone as he went to lock the door. Javier sighs and couldn't help but chuckle. _What an idiot_, he thought and returned to drinking.

Their seemed to be no other intelligent girls out here other than the two who roomed below him and Bryn. Other than those they were all idiots. One of the girls downstairs, Winnifred, wouldn't let him get close enough without bringing up religion and saying doing this won't be right or doing that would be against God's wishes, she was plain annoying. The other, Rose Marie, he'd also tried getting with was practically glued to some guy in his Spanish class. Tinsley had her eye on Bryn's brother, so he believes Bryn is the only one available.

Not that she's much of a letdown. She was a better choice out of the girls he knew were left. No sarcasm intended or needed.

All he needed to do was catch her eye again.

That won't be too hard, right?

_Right_?

**X**

Bryn yawns into her palm and slouches in the diagnosis room. The lights were dimmed and a foggy screen glowed. The doctor stares down the ultrasound, his eyes on the board as the film zooms in on what looked like a bean. The doctor fumbles with his glasses and despite the lighting, she saw the color drain from his face. Bryn straightens in her chair and blinks at the doctor. "Hey, Doc, what happened? Is he alright?" she asks, digging her nails into the bare skin of her thigh.

The man sighs, shook his head, and murmurs something before turning to her. "This young man, Steven Adler, has been diagnosed with acute pancreatitis," he murmurs, closing his droopy eyes as Adler lay on the cot. He switches off the monitor and Bryn took that as a sign to listen. He continues at the question in Bryn's eyes. "Acute pancreatitis is usually diagnosed with the abuse of alcohol. In severe cases, he'd need intensive surgery and would have to be on dialysis for the remainder of his life." He gazes at the half-conscious Adler. "The pancreas is usually the size of a fist. Drinking and extensive abuse have caused his pancreas to become the size of a football. It's impossible to live without your pancreas and it can't be removed. It digests food and the juices inside him have flooded and left second – even third-degree burns on the insides of his body causing pain from his chest to his thighs."

She felt like bursting into tears but didn't want to embarrass herself further. Only swallowed the knot in her throat and stared at the dark screen. Not having the will to meet the doctor's eyes. "Will he be okay?" she questions, leaning over Adler to see if he was still breathing. It felt like a relief to see his chest heaving.

The man didn't shake his head or nod. "I can't be sure. It's quite rare to see someone survive something as perilous as this." He stops at detecting the horror on her face. "However, it's possible he could but surgery isn't healthy right away so he'd need a few inpatient days to detox. Is that alright with you?"

Bryn nods and sighs. "Sure," she answers, touching Steven's arm from seeing him hold himself into a better position, eyes wide. They weren't the way they usually were considering the glaze. "Is that normal?"

The doctor nods. "I stabilized him so he may appear a tad lost. He should be fine for the night, hopefully." The room phone rang and the doctor reached for it. "I'll be right down." He hung it in the cradle and turned to Bryn. "I'll return shortly just get a nurse if his condition worsens." He flicked the light on. Steven groaned, shielding his eyes from the glare. The man leaves the room without another word.

Steven pats Bryn's knee to catch her attention and she turns to him. He motions with his backhand for her to approach, running fingers along his chest. "C'mere, Bryn," he slurs, medicine taking effect. "I gotta ask you somethin'."

Bryn stood from her seat, standing with tired eyes. "What's wrong, Steven?" she inquires, snaking a hand through her hair. "You okay?"

Steven shook his head and yawns. "Yeah, yeah, but I wanna ask somethin'," he says, looking confused at Bryn's matching gaze. "Did I ever do somethin' so fucked that ended me here? Because iss like I deserve to be 'ere." Bryn's eyes shined with tears, the harsh lights accenting them. "Can you answer that?"

Bryn choked on laughter that soon became sobs. "No." She wipes her eyes. Steven opens his arms and instantly she was in his embrace, crushing herself to him and soaking her shirt with ultrasound gel. Her face in his throat as she shivers with tears. What was she doing? She was the one with the heart of stone. And here she was breaking down in Steven's arms, coughing and shaking. "No, y-you never did anything wrong, it's my fault. All my fault."

Steven held her tighter. "I doubt, like, it's your fault," he mumbles, patting one of her quivering shoulders with his free hand. "You're too nice … even if I do die. Can I ask a request?"

Bryn nods against him. "Yes …" She hacks through her tears, unable to do anything but hug the drummer.

Steven blinks. "Huh?"

Bryn raises her head, a tear dripping on his naked shoulder. "_Yes_."

Steven pushes her off so their eyes could meet, his gaze piercing. It was unexpected to see how tough he could get in seconds. "Meet me in heaven," he requests in complete solemnity. "so when I die I could still see you … can you do that?"

Bryn nods sadly, shoulders falling. "I can," The tears grew warm and stopped dry. "I promise."

Steven smiles in genuine relief. "Now, I wanna rest. See you." He shut his eyes and fell back like nothing happened. She admired him for that as she left the room, shoving through the staff and patients, who stared as she jogged the halls. She took out her phone and searched her contacts, picking the only one that could help. Clutched her ribs as tears stung her chin and begged for an answer as the droning rings felt endless in her head.

"Mmhmm?" the reply finally came.

"M-M-Matt," Bryn stammers, rushing through the antiseptic halls. "C-C-Can you come and meet me in front of Lenox? Please, it's an e-emergency."

**X**

After hearing those words, Matt stretched and got off the couch, scraped his fingers through his bedhead and checked the time on the television. He heard angry people and Bryn's sobs on the other end. "What happened? You alright? Is Harper alright?" Another choke and a click of a lighter echoed from her side. "Bryn, talk to me here."

She choked on what he assumed were words and sobs combined. "Can you just _please_ come down here? I'd r-rather tell you if you were here. Please, please … get here." He slid on his jacket over his wifebeater and striped pajama pants. Not that he's dressed worse before. His mother had a late schedule. He'd be fine if she wasn't home.

He lit a cigarette to keep himself busy, stole the family car-keys off the desk. "I'll be right there just hold on." he assures, pulling on his sneakers, tying the dirty laces into knots. He heard a click and deposited his phone in his pocket. Sighing, descending the stairs out of his apartment. Why would she be so upset? She seemed miserable, devastated. Was it something her mother done? Or maybe Steven but that couldn't be.

He went out the door and checked the time before he locked the door. It was nearing four. Who would be up this early anyway? He certainly wasn't. Valium does magic tricks and he usually wouldn't be up until his alarm woke him for school. Goddamn.

From a good distance, he unlocks the car with a _beep_, bolting into the street and opening the door. Sets the key in the ignition, twists it, and listens to the roar of life. Opens the glove compartment, looks for spare cigarettes as he breathes into the night. He twists back and looks around before driving for the hospital.

What he did for his friends.

**X**

Bryn didn't hesitate to quit sobbing as she collapses against the marble pillars of the hospital she couldn't wait to leave. She didn't want to call her driver because she'd already sent him home. Maybe if Matt didn't come she could just sleep in the waiting room. Damn, though, it was freezing. She could've at least taken one of Harper's jackets. He wouldn't have noticed its absence, he had thousands. She massaged what heat she had into her knees while balancing the cigarette in her teeth.

It was embarrassing to say the least because she couldn't even smoke right. She was too disturbed and just hoped to wake in her bed, realizing this was just a terrible dream and when she'd be in school the next morning, she'd see Steven, chewing wheat like the country boy he pretended to be on Tuesdays.

The screech of tires returns Bryn to her senses as she coughs smoke. She didn't bother looking. It was probably a late worker coming to their shift. Man, she'd sure hate to have a shift this early.

Frantic footsteps rush to her and a shadow looms overhead. She squints and tries to light her cigarette a second time when suddenly someone knelt before her, took her cigarette, and stubbed it. "Bryn," the voice said. The breath of cigarettes and coffee. "You alright?"

Bryn knew the voice. "No." she mumbles as Matt helps her to stand. "I – Steven's in the hospital … he had an overdose or –" She dug her nails in Matt's arm and the tears continued. "He has pancreatitis and he might die, Matt!" Matt flinches at the grip. Who knew someone so small could have such a rock-hard grip? "I won't be able to deal with that! I l-love him! I never want one of my closest friends to die!" Her nails fell as she wraps her arms around him, sobbing into his chest. Matt pats her back, saying nothing in an attempt to comfort her.

He sighs and suddenly she slumps against him. He caught her and carefully led her to his car as he wipes the tears on her face. This was the worse he'd seen Bryn in a while. She was so devastated by Steven, she actually admitted to love. It wasn't romantic love but just the intense love that is felt for a good friend. He was the only person keeping everyone else sane and if he wasn't around –

What would happen?

**X**

Floria paces through class as the sun rose from the clouds. She bit her Danish and props her denim bag onto an unoccupied desk in Accounting. She shared this class with Bryn but didn't see her in the halls today. She also heard Steven and Matt weren't in either. But that didn't surprise her much, they were probably skipping together but something sad was not even Harper had seen her, her own _brother_. Her _twin_.

And Harper was just as worried because she didn't even call despite the many times he had through the early hours. Floria found it a tad inconsiderate but she knew that's just the way Bryn was sometimes but she worried for her rebellious companion as much as anyone else.

But she knew Matt would take care of Bryn because he knew her best so that took a heavy burden off all shoulders when he was around for her. Harper and her always tried to be around too but she only opened up to either Steven or Matt (sometimes Floria depending on the situation) and they'd usually talk it over in a bar, downing shots.

The teacher gave each person a worksheet. She took a look out the window and rose her chin to the ceiling, releasing an exerted yawn, a ruler snapped on her desk, pulling her out of daydreams. Her Accounting teacher, Mrs. Forman, frowns down at her, patting her page. "Answer these, Floria. No dillydallying."

Ew, dillydallying? Who says that anymore?

Floria grabs her pen and nods, scribbling answers she didn't bother to think of as Mrs. Forman wobbles away. Floria continues to not pay attention to what she was writing. Before placing her paper on the teacher's desk, sitting back, and putting her head in her hands when was that damn bell gonna ring? It's been nearly thirty minutes she couldn't wait to get out of class and school –

Why couldn't she have a life like that girl in the Twilight books? Who somehow gets both guys. The vampire books sure are twisted when both a werewolf and vampire could fall for a scrawny punk teen who turns beautiful, gets the 'perfect' spouse and child and –

_Riiiiiiiiing_

Floria startles, scooping up her books and jogging out the door and into the marble halls. She'd get detention tomorrow but didn't care. She may not even be in whether Bryn comes in or not. She's tired of the drama. These last weeks have been hectic enough. Skipping a few days wouldn't be so bad.

Hayden waves at Floria but she ignores it. Floria flew through the giant ivory doors and yells for a cab, instructing the driver to Williamsburg.

It's been so long since she hasn't regretted one of her decisions.

And you know what? It felt pretty damn good.

**X**

Matt and Bryn walk to school, both in their uniforms with barely an hour left in the school day. After nearly ingesting a full bottle of Advil, he managed to drag Bryn out of his house before she could die on his couch. They were both mentally and physically exhausted. Her cloudy black eyeliner and cherry lipstick faded, hair in knots and eyes tired. It just hasn't been an easy week.

He looked equally bad having a newsboy hat over his unwashed hair, sleepless indents wreathed around his eyes. They looked like two druggies out of the Addams Family. They should've just stayed back in his house, watching crappy MTV music videos. Who'd really want to go to school when you're feeling like shit?

Matt yawns in the distance. He scored an absence note from his mother after claiming stomach pains. "Hey, Bryn," he calls, trying for a cigarette. "Want a light?" He sounded like an addict but that was the only thing on his mind now, pills and cigarettes. He didn't want to end in Steven's position but it was the only thing that would keep him temporarily lucid.

Bryn chokes on air and her eyelids flicker. "No." she answers, shoving him off. "Gotta get to class, I'm exhausted." She raises an eyebrow and scratches her scalp with cold fingers. "You goin'?"

Matt looks at the cigarette and threw it, watching it roll into the sewer. "Not yet," he answers, not sounding as tired. "I'm gonna get something to eat. I might check if Vena's around."

Instead of a disgusted comment, Bryn pumps an unenthusiastic fist. "Have fun." she mutters, cracking her knuckles. "Tell me how it goes." She heads toward Constance. Not even bothering for a goodbye.

Matt lit another cigarette before tossing his lighter into the road, where a beaten Jeep drove over it, crushing it into bits.

He wasn't going to look for Vena today (no matter how much he wanted to) or get himself a burger because his appetite wasn't on him. The only thing he wanted to do was tell off Steven. Despite that being out of character for him, he was furious, stressed, and exhausted. And those three don't make the best mix. Unless in Nirvana playlists.

He walks the distance to Lenox-Hill, checking in with the receptionist to get a pass to see his supposed friend, who'd just come from a second diagnosis. A surgery was supposedly said to be performed later unless his condition improves.

Matt walks through the medical corridors in search of his idiot friend who instead of calling him called Bryn. _Bryn_. Out of all people, he told her he was sick and was diagnosed with a disease liable to kill him.

While he was knocked out from a day of school, Bryn called him in tears (something she'd never stand to admit) pleading him to come to the hospital. When he had gotten there, Bryn was already sobbing and choking on a cigarette, saying she wouldn't want him to die and that she loved his druggie friend more than anything. She crushed herself to him and continued violently sobbing, stopping only when she'd worn herself out.

To make Bryn cry that hard is tough. You'd have to do something terrible and that's just what Steven did. He came close to dying and managed to nearly kill Bryn in fear because of it.

Matt stops in the doorpost, looking in to find a wide-awake Steven in a hospital gown. He enters with a scowl to meet his sober gaze, having a bedhead and a face glistening with sweat. He looked healthy but was obviously not. "Hey, Matt, what's up?" he asks, which only fueled his anger. How could he act so calm?

"Don't say shit, Steven," Matt snarls, dropping his bag to approach the confused drummer. "You're in a hospital and the best you can say is _what_'_s_ _up_? Do you even know how you got here?"

Steven shook his head, the grin disappearing. "No? But I sure know I'm in a hell of a lot a pain." He chuckles for his joke to die in the silence. "Why?"

Matt sighs, taking off his hat and dusting it. "Bryn brought you here." he answers, still scowling, he saw Steven's eyes grow with concern. "She called me at four in the morning … sobbing because of shit you told her while you were doped and now she's miserable. Great job, by the way. I thought David was the only one of our friends to screw her life up."

Steven groans to meet Matt's eyes as he brings himself into a sitting position. Eager sparkling in his amber irises. "What'd I say? Did she tell you?"

Matt shook his head. "She was too freaked, I couldn't get much out of her but you fucked up, Steven. And if you're gonna keep doing drugs, keep Bryn and I out of it. I don't want this happening again. You know what? This better not happen again –" He points at him with a look that could shatter glass. "If it does, you better bid farewell to the balls you don't have. Don't expect me at your funeral." He put his hat back on and turned for the door. "Goodbye, Steven."

Steven didn't say anymore. He could only stare at Matt's retreating, leather-clad back as he disappeared out the door.

He sure had a lot to think about.

**X**

A week later, Adler is ejected from the hospital, Harper spends more time with Vena as does Matt while Floria continues skipping school. It was surprisingly normal enough for the Upper East Siders. Or as normal as anything could get around here.

Bryn leans against Constance's outerwall, lighting her third cigarette of the day. She was sure an addict. Would she be like this when she was older? Die in a sleazy hotel like Jani Lane? She had a band to hold together, a brother to support and protect, a life to keep normal.

Bryn met the cloudless sky, hoping the morning bell could ring so she could teach Tinsley more basics. She had to stop worrying about Steven because he'd be fine despite the druggie he was. And if Matt didn't worry than she had no need to. He'd be fine.

Hopefully.

Bryn checks her phone. Someone's fists meet the walls on either side of her. A tall someone towers over her shoulders and their hot breath sent shivers down her neck. She looks to find Steven standing before her, who was obviously healthy enough to leave the hospital. And not on dialysis. His baseball cap hides his hair and blonde stubble was growing in. But he did look normal.

"Steven?" Bryn asks, flicking her cigarette stub. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in the hospital?"

Steven shook his head. "I'm kinda healthy again. My pancreas, it's normal." He looks at Bryn, who seemed on the verge of tears. "Bryn, I'm sorry. I said a load of shit to you and if I did anything else, I'm so sorry. Can't you just give me another chance?"

Bryn slung her arms around Steven and stumbles into his chest, listening to the calm rhythm of his heart that was no longer thundering like approaching lightning. Steven wasn't drugged. Bryn nods against his embrace and looks back up. "As long as you never do all those drugs or drink again."

Steven grins and brought his fingers beneath her chin, kneeling to stare her in the eye. "Promise." he advises as he leans into her. Their foreheads practically touching. "It's gonna be pretty hard though. Rockers' Honor."

She didn't know what controlled her to this. Lust, relief, impulse –

Bryn was on her toes and they were kissing, her arms around his neck and his reaching her waist. After a few moments, they broke apart with laughter, showing that the kiss meant nothing. It was only on impulse after all.

**X**

Harper slams his locker closed to meet Tinsley's enchanting green eyes staring back passionately. She would've made a great model. Nearly Kate Moss-esque. He felt like he'd never be able to live up to her being only a Blackwell child, the complete opposite of his twin. Negativity aside, he smiles. "Hey, what's up?"

Tinsley smiles as an answer and they both head out into the courtyard as her smile doesn't leave. True affection. "It's been awhile since we've spoken and you've been with Vena a lot lately, too."

Harper's face darkens as he notices jocks and the others from his sports' team. Pointing at the two and chuckling like fools, he looks around to see them all holding their phones over their faces. What was going on? They'd better be talking about someone else, it better not be about him or Tinsley –

"Oooooh, Haaaarper!" A girl having already faked sweetness yells. Vena, hair yanked in a ponytail, shoves past Tinsley to reach Harper. She held her silver Nokia and shook it like a banner. Radiance in her gaze. "You _have _to see this! You won't believe what Gossip Bee said about Tinsley! It's hilarious!"

She shoves her phone into Harper's hands and he skims Gossip Bee's blast without a choice. His brows furrowing when he turns to Tinsley.

_Sweet T doesn_'_t seem so sweet_,_ huh_?_ Maybe because she has an STD from her wild days_,_ perhaps_?_ I would love to know if she slept with H yet which wouldn_'_t surprise me because she slept with nearly every guy at boarding school_._ She had to get kicked out somehow_._ Mm_,_ all good things must come to an end after all_. _Just don_'_t give Angel H_,_ alright_?_ We_'_d all like a piece of that_.

Not wanting to read anymore, he returns Vena her phone and walks off. Leaving the two behind without another word.

Tinsley's eyes went wild and she screams after Harper. He didn't look back as he turns the block. Vena smirks pleasantly at Tinsley and struts away, leaving a reality-struck Tinsley standing in the middle of a laughing crowd. All of them pointing, jeering, spreading rumors and calling her rude names.

Her life was officially over sta –

Now.


	7. Chapter 7

Tinsley, close to tears, rushes through the halls to class. Maybe a few music lessons would get her mind off Gossip Bee. She bit her lower lip and enters the room. The only class where she was safe, where no one would point and laugh about her insecurities.

Jasmine incense filled the air, warm and heartening. She threw her Lanvin handbag into a chair and staggers to Bryn, casually humming something sung by Iggy Pop and plucking the resounding notes on her Gibson. She smiles when Tinsley slumps across from her. Her smile wanes when she notices her expression. "What's wrong, Blondie? You're usually never down in here."

Tinsley wanted to shake her head, to reassure her, but couldn't muster the courage and hung her head. Chose an acoustic Stigma off the rack and looked to Bryn. Tears shining in her eyes. "Vena," she manages breathlessly, shoulders and fingers trembling. "she … she's ruining my life and I ... just don't know what to do. Harper even believed _her _over _me_."

Bryn leans to plug the amp into her guitar and rose to her feet. She looked like a doll unlike Vena, who she imagined to be a witch disguised as a ballerina fairy from the books her father read to her as a child. "You know, my brother's really stupid when it comes to chicks," Bryn begun, untangling the wires and cracking her gum. "you don't have to worry. Vena's a bitch. We all get it. So you, me, and Claire are gonna take her down. And that'll leave you some alone time with my bro."

Tinsley blinks and let her words sink in. Who knew Bryn would say something so comforting? Harper grounded Bryn after the whole cigarette fiasco. Even though now, she considered that extreme because she wasn't hurt when that cigarette died on her shoulder.

She was only upset the ashes wouldn't wash out of her favorite shirt.

After letting the words subside, Tinsley murmurs. "_Wow_. Who would've ever thought you'd say something so … deep."

Bryn smacks her gum. She laughs and ran her fingers around the frets of the guitar. "Funny," she stats in empty humor. "Don't think anything of it but …" She strums feathery notes, turning to a smiling Tinsley. "How's that? I'm kinda working on a new song for me and the guys. It's called 'Midnight Music.'"

Tinsley nods, smile blossoming. "It's great so far." she says. It's nice to see Bryn's attempt at lighter music. But what would've made her try something daintier than her usual hardcore rock? "What makes you want to try your hand at a brighter sound, anyway?"

Bryn blinks and drops her shoulders in a casual shrug. "Just thought I'd try something new for the guys," She watches Tinsley's eyelashes flutter in inquiry. "I didn't tell you? Ha, sorry." She couches her guitar and slicks her fingers through her tangles. "A few days ago, the girls left me after I joined a few guys for some songs. They considered me two-timing and ditched. I joined the guys and now I'm a Raw Rose."

Raw Rose? That sounds like a pretty interesting name but she'd always imagined Bryn as a heartbreaker, the one-and-only Bryn "The Heartbreaker" Blackwell. Raw Rose was nice but it'd take time to fit. "All guys?" Tinsley asks. "That's pretty cool. Almost like Hayley Williams."

Bryn spits her gum into the trash and lit herself a cigarette. "Guess you could say that," she replies, watching Mr. Man walk around and help students prepare their instruments with a beam for a smile. "By the way, you goin' to the shit Claire is hosting? She's practically asking everyone now."

Claire and Tinsley were good friends but it was surprising to finally find out about this. Claire usually had to make a big entrance before she announces her galas with the honeybees but what could she be hosting this month? A party dedicated to good ol' Halloween? She usually has something each _month_. What could she be doing now?

Tinsley, now attentive, leans in. "What's she having? It's almost the end of October."

Bryn tilts her head to the glass ceiling, exhales smoke rings. "Somethin' … a masquerade party, I think." She lowers her head and blew a jet of smoke over her shoulders. "Just an early party for Halloween, I assume. She always had a thing for it."

Maybe because she's half-witch herself?

Tinsley only remembered one thing Claire loved about Halloween and those were the princess dresses they wore when they once ran the streets of the UES, gathering as much candy as they possibly could in their silk bags. But now Claire throws a party before Halloween each year. No longer wearing the blossomy dresses she wore as a child but Prada pumps and a flowing Oscar De La Renta.

_I_'_d trade a frumpy dress for an Oscar De La Renta any day_.

Tinsley bobs her head in a silent nod. "Yeah," she agreed. "we should go shopping for dresses. When's the party, anyway?"

Bryn stubs her cigarette on the armrest of her leather seat. "Tomorrow evening? The 24th? She didn't tell anyone else because I think she's gonna announce it at lunch or sometime later today."

In shock, Tinsley ran a nail under a string, causing it to screech and pop. She didn't even have a decent dress! She would've worn the one she had at Rodney's but red wine had ruined the fabric enough to not come out in the wash. She observes her forefinger and winces. "Ow," she mumbles, applying pressure. "that really hurt …"

To her surprise, Bryn was grinning and barely hiding laughter. "Nice!" she bellows, catching attention. "You're officially a guitarist now!"

**X**

Harper gathers his French books after the bell rings, shuts his eyes, and slides fingers through his choppy bangs, scuffing them before he's out the door and bidding a foreign farewell to his teacher. He was barely halfway out when he noticed Vena. "Oh … hey, Vena. Aren't you supposed to be in Constance?"

Vena shook her hair and giggles, a confused Harper gazes her down doubtfully. "Of course not, silly! I always skip first period! I really _missed_ you."

Harper raises a brow and nods. "Um, thanks," he responds, withdrawing a clutter of French work into his schoolbag. "you didn't have to …"

Vena swung her arms around his waist, staring into his eyes. He stares over her shoulder, where many jocks and athletes laughed at him. Pointing and jeering like he was their biggest laugh since the STD rumor about Tinsley. Why'd she have to act so weird? It was starting to get annoying. He should've known she'd turn into a girl like that. It was one reason he and Bryn left Italy.

Though there were many more.

Despite Italy sounding good with its handsome citizens and delicious pasta and Roman architecture. It was hell. Especially with their snooty mother, who dragged Bryn along for Dior fashion shows she always felt like shooting herself at. Their mother always said she never liked spending time with Bryn and actually admitted it to her face.

You know what Bryn did? She threw a butter knife at her, the blade just managing to miss as Bryn stormed out, grabbing the first flight to Manhattan with Harper (who wouldn't dare leave her.) Their mother couldn't care and as long as she had her new husband, an oil tycoon's youngest son. She'd be fine.

_And_ _I thought Eleanor Rose was messed_-_up_.

It was hard to believe Bryn was even related to him.

But honestly, he didn't know what to say.

"Don't worry about it!" she sang in faux-excitement. "I wanted to, silly!"

Scott grins at Harper, waving a gloved hand. He winks dirtily at Vena and his toothy grin widens at Harper's bewilderment. "Get 'em, man! Get '_em_!"

Harper flushes and bit the inside of his cheek, glancing at Vena. She wasn't _that _attractive. She'd look better with someone like Matthew but not him. He only liked Tinsley but after what he'd done to her today she'd rather spend time with Bryn.

_Whoa_, _scary thought_.

Harper sighs and heard the minute-bell ring. He'd be late for his next class. "Um," he began. "As much as I'd like to stay, I kinda have to get to class. I can't be too late or I'll get detention."

Vena smirks, lip curling in an indifferent smile that made her look like the devil woman. "You could always skip with me." she suggests, slithery fingers tracing patterns on his arms. "You could always write yourself a fake note that 'excuses' you from class. Logical, right?"

Harper wasn't Bryn. Bryn skipped classes and smoked joints and drank until she was unconscious. He'd never do what she does. Plus, he wasn't one to skip class. He actually _wanted _to graduate, so he'd never see any of those annoying underclassmen again.

Harper jerks his arm free. "No thanks," he answers, ice on his tongue. "I really have to go." He didn't even allow her a reassurance. He wasn't too pleased after he ditched Tinsley in a laughing crowd when she was believed to have an STD. He wouldn't be surprised if Claire was the one to set that up.

Without another word, he passes her, rounding the corner with his sternest face.

Vena glares at Harper's back as he abandons her. She fought the urge to curse him off there. How dare he embarrass her in this damn school.

Vena lit herself a cigarette, meeting the security cameras to point both of her manicured fingers to it. She struts down the hall, taking an orange envelope from her Hermès bag, and walks past the lockers.

Lucky for her each boy's initials were engraved in the front.

_MS_ was the only one she was searching for and within a minute she discovered the very one.

She smirks and begun pushing the envelope through the window. She cleans her hands and pushes through the ivory doors back to Constance.

_Oooooh_! _What could she be doing_? _Giving a special someone a secret love letter_? _Call me when you elope to Buenos Aires_!

**X**

Claire files her nails in the back of the room, where she was joined by the few members of her clique. She unfortunately shared this class with Vena and the idiot spent half the period daydreaming about trying to take over Claire's clique or destroy Tinsley, no doubt.

She barely had a chance. Claire knew her minions would never ditch her for some low druggie that just returned to school. Especially with such an ugly face and a horrid manicure. Claire smirks and shook her bangles to alert the girls, almost-automatically all their eyes drew to hers. "What is it, Claire?" Margaret Cullen questions, hazel eyes wide behind Kate Spade frames. "Do you want us to get you a soy latte after class?"

They knew her so well. "Well, yes." she answers, putting her nail file away and lifting a pencil, having the sudden urge to throw it. "I'm hosting a gala tomorrow night. I'll announce the rest in the lunchroom."

Florence Jaffe chews the eraser of her pencil and directs her eyes to Vena as she continues to stare into space. Other girls laugh and point at her dazed face. Florence simply smirks, her purple braces gleaming in the ceiling lights. "Are you inviting that idiot?" she inquires, interlacing her fingers and sustaining her chin on them. "She'll be the death of the party."

Claire shared the same smirk. "I wouldn't dare. She's just here to ruin Tinsley's and maybe … Bryn's life. I wouldn't want someone as dark as _that_." The queen jabs a thumb at Vena. "This is my party and I choose who I want as I always do."

Florence grins. "Good," the minion claims, the bell rang and Vena snapped out of her trance, wiping her mouth with a grimace. Without meeting any eyes, she flew out of the room with a chorus of giggles following closely behind her.

Claire stood, dusting off her skirt. "Come," she told her group. "let's go embarrass the bitch."

A few nod and the others giggle as they tail their rightful leader.

_Go take your cameras to the Constance café_._ There's gonna be one hell of a bitch fight_!

**X**

Matt and Steven head to their lockers as Steven swings a lanky arm over his best friend's shoulders. "Shit, this has to be the longest Thursday in the history of the world." he moans into Matt's back before squinting down the hall to find their lockers. His hair was completely mussed and his tie dangled from his neck lazily.

Matt flings Steven off his shoulders. "Don't exaggerate." he advises, lighting himself a cigarette only when he was in safe distance of teachers and security cameras. "Yes, it's been a long day but you've barely gotten out of the hospital. That's why you're so worn-out and stupid."

Steven yawns when they finally reach their lockers, plummets against his, and wishes he could light himself a cigarette. He promised Bryn he'd never drink or smoke again and they sealed it with a kiss that none knew about.

It was nice kissing Bryn. Warming to see her passion compared to her hard-rock exterior. He knew someone could've seen because no act goes unseen but he was relieved. Knowing Matt hadn't. Matt cared for Bryn more than anything. Like she was the sister he never wanted.

The kiss meant nothing. Despite liking Bryn, it was all he needed for his feelings to vanish. He would always be close to her but it felt nice to not like her as much. He still wished he knew what he had said to her when he was all loopy.

Matt denotes his locker combination and pops open his locker, a creased envelope flies out and falls flat on the floor. He raises a brow, knelt to the marble tiles, and seized it. "The hell?" he asks, his name typed in French calligraphy. "Yeah, _really_."

Steven smirks and claps his shoulder stupidly. "Apparently, you got a fan, Matt."

Matt smiles and rips his thumbnail through the tape, fishing out a pile of blue Post-Its. He slowly unfolds them, curiosity budding rapidly. What was this the 1988? Who would actually send a letter these days? Texting works much better in his mind.

Steven approaches Matt, noticing his silence and reads the Post-Its along beside him.

_Hey_,_ Strad_._ Never thought I_'_d actually write you_._ I just don_'_t really know how to express my feelings to you_,_ so I figured writing them would be second best_. _You have no idea how many jokes I could make with the thought of being second-best_.

_If you didn_'_t realize by now it's me Bryn. Hah_,_ hope you aren't that stupid, you hot guitarist_._ I can actually write neat_._ You know_,_ I don_'_t write at all like those prissy bitches like Claire or Tinsley with hearts and angels all over the margins_._ Shit_,_ that_'_s suck ass_.

_But anyway_,_ I just wanted to try admitting my stupid love for you since I never really told a guy I loved him_._ Even if you don_'_t have the same feelings_,_ be sure to meet me at Claire's masquerade tomorrow night and I guess we_'_ll talk_,_ then_?

_Always_,

_Bryn Blackwell_

Steven chuckles and took off his cap, waving it like a fan. "That's some hilarious shit, Matt – I mean, you hot guitarist." he claims before propping his hat back on. Matt smiles coldly. "Bryn must be playing a harsh prank on you. I sure as hell know she'd never admit to liking someone in a girly letter."

Matt blinks and folds the Post-Its together, lobbing the envelope in the trash. "Yeah," he deducts. Why would Bryn write him a letter? She wasn't one to express feelings in writing and who knew she wrote like an actual girl? He'd have to confront her about this and certainly knew he didn't have feelings for her. But, she was supposed to be at that ball tomorrow evening, so he'd meet her there. "Steven."

"Um, yes?"

"You going to that thing Claire's hosting?"

Steven searches his bag and eventually found himself a pen, setting it to his mouth. Blinks at Matt's bafflement and grins. "Sorry, it's the closest thing that'll come to a cigarette." he replies and chews it like a straw. "And … uh, yeah. She invited most of us already. Are you?"

"Now, I am."

It felt like he really didn't have a choice anymore.

**X**

Vena examines her locker. She searches for any spare joints or cigarettes, finding nothing. Only permission slips, extra notepads, and dirty napkins with purple lipstick stains. Shallow memories. All which she didn't need to waste her valuable scheming time over.

Clique girls and trashy punks lumber past her in swarms of perfume and dirty leather. Bryn and Claire's followers. _Losers_, she knows. Her old friends would be in disgust.

Old friends was the definition of Javier and Tinsley. Her past memories of them: sneaking out of class, renting suites from the Waldorf-Astoria and drinking malts, having fake bonfires during the weekends. They were so lame back then …

And, who'd she have now? No one really. Javier to a certain limit, Claire she never cared for, Tinsley isn't even anything now but a disgrace. A fake, who masks her past-self in appropriate clothes and spearmint breath. It's all a game. She's a pawn in the Manhattan Monopoly. Always a has been. They all are. Including the pretend-rock star, Matthew.

She smiles to herself, shoves a barrage of books into her locker before freezing when she hears a _clonk clonk clonk_. "Mind telling me why you're bothering my friend?"

Vena slides two steps backward. Bryn holds a cigarette in one hand, a notebook with a collage of rock legends in the other. She's unfashionable to her, wearing their uniform and fishnet tights and ugly moonboots. She's almost like the old Tinsley and for that, she almost admires her. _Almost_.

Counterattacks always work against enemies. "Mind telling _me _why you were flirting with my ex?"

According to rumors, she heard Javier working his magic on her. Almost succeeding until Matthew intervened. Javier could've had a perfect punk in his bed, if he attempted more. Good thing he didn't.

"Because he came to me." Bryn leans against the locker beside hers. "Now, answer my question. Why were you bothering Tinsley?"

She smiles over Bryn's defense. "Just when I thought you could care less. What a sweet rocker you are."

Bryn counters her with a smirk. "I'm plenty more. And this _sweet rocker_ could easily make you suffer."

"I bet." She seemingly waits until the last Constance girls disappear. No need for them to overhear and spread false stories about her and Bryn fighting to the death. "Unless, you want beautiful stories to be spread about another STD given to Harper."

Bryn points a menacing finger at her. "Say shit about my brother and I swear –"

"You'll make me suffer, I got that." Vena nods and checks her manicure. "I'll do my best to keep secret about that and Javier seducing you. As long as you don't bother me again."

"The feeling is mutual." Bryn decides and slams Vena's locker shut, almost severing four of her fingers. "Keep quiet or I _will_ be back."

Vena lifts a hand and sickly smiles. She waits until Bryn is halfway down the hall. "And Bryn?"

"What now?" She doesn't look back.

Smirks, narrows her eyes. "Happy birthday."

This time, she keeps walking and for once she wishes she'd say something.

**X**

Bryn slams her tray beside Tinsley in the cafeteria, sliding into a chair while she eyes her meal. A thin salad with a polishing of ranch dressing and sliced carrots and tomatoes, one peanut butter cookie, and natural tea. What was this a fucking hippie yoga class? Where were the steaks and beef? Bacon and eggs? Subs and sausage? It was almost like the girls _had_ to stay skinny in this school.

Tinsley seemed perfectly content. "Tins," Bryn calls, wanting a light but not wanting to suffocate Tinsley this period. "How can you eat this? It's disgusting." Bryn pushes her tray away and took the cookie, taking a bite. It wasn't as bad as all the other crap but the cookie-limit was one each. She saw her friends stealing extras when the lunch ladies were turned away.

She could buy two bags of cookies on Lexington and nobody would give a damn.

Tinsley smiles, something opposite of Bryn. "It's not so bad." she advises, squeezing some lemon into her tea. "And … sometimes you get used to it. Some days, it'll be meat, like a few times a week. But mostly it's vegan."

Bryn sighs, steals her tray, and dumps it before reappearing back at Tinsley's side. "Where's damn Claire? I just wanna hear her announcement before I'm out."

Tinsley looks around. The room wasn't at all bad despite Bryn. They recently renovated so it was larger to fit all of the girls. The tables were a shiny redwood, the mirrored walls gleamed, and the food was made by the finest chefs.

It was a combination of the _Saw _films to Bryn.

Tinsley wipes her mouth with a napkin before twisting around. Claire and her minions entered, the members scattering, handing each girl an envelope emblazoned with the Larson family crest. Every girl received one.

Everyone but Vena.

Vena looks around, using innocence to her advantage as she raised an arm toward Claire, who immediately locked eyes with her. "How come I didn't get one, Claire?"

Claire shrugs and hands invitations to Bryn and Tinsley (which Bryn swiftly tossed.) "Because I don't like you." she advises. "Maybe when you get rid of your Herpes, we could talk but nothing till then. Sorry." She glances at Bryn and Tinsley, lowering her voice. "You're welcome."

Bryn continues smiling at Claire while Tinsley notices their connection she never knew of. "I fucking love you."

Claire shrugs, twisting fingers into her hair. "Doesn't everyone?"

Tinsley smiles through their conversation of Vena-torture and suddenly remembers the 24th was Harper's birthday. How great was that? The party almost seemed like it'd be for him. She _had _to get him something. Who knew Claire actually had a heart and wasn't Bryn's the same day? They were twins after all. Something must be up.

And I could assure you I'll be first to find out.

Because nothing stays a secret forever.

**X**

'**Welcome home, honey bees!' – The awesomeness of Gossip Bee herself.**

**And **_**that **_**is my new slogan. You know, like the ones for McDonald's and Burger King. Despite my disliking of their greasy fries and syrupy milkshakes, hidden in the parking lot in the McDonald's downtown is the best dealer, who makes one hell of a pepperoni pizza. Nothing like cheesy pizza to go with some cola and a nice baggie. Ah, good times, good times.**

**Aside from that, have you all heard of the huge party **_**Queen C **_**will be accommodating? As far as I know, it's gonna be a wonderful masquerade and the one-and-only, Gossip Bee, will be in attendance. I never got on **_**Queen C**_**'s nerves through the years, so I got a clean slate and my old friends, **_**Rocker B **_**and **_**J**_** were** **invited, which makes it all the more epic because I'm pretty sure I'm gonna be seeing a specific pair on the roof later. Anyone wanna make bets along mine on how long **_**A **_**will last without cigarettes?**

**And note to you, **_**A**_**,** **never chew on pens. It rots teeth.**

**At least someone will learn something new today. Compared to how stupid **_**S **_**is for … nah. I'm just gonna go rot my teeth on gel pens. Anyone care to join? But I have a free bonus, I'm getting my teeth whitened for **_**Queen C**_**'**_**s**_ **ball, so I'll see you, then!**

**Sightings:**

_**Rocker B **_**smoking in rapid succession while she waits for Harper outside St. Jude's, she eventually gives and heads to Barneys' with **_**Sweet T **_… **wait **_**what**_**? I hope they don't start a catfight inside because I don't want any of the D&G dresses torn. **_**H **_**at a lacrosse game with a few guys, at least he ditched Vena. **_**V **_**buying hair-dye to likely disguise herself and crash the party and steal everyone's guys like the slut she is.**

**Dear G to the B, What's up? I was wondering since I was also invited. What're you wearing tomorrow? We could hang, man! -Airhead81**

**Dear Airhead81, Um, no, thanks. But, I hope you'll be able to notice me because I'm gonna be the best-looking there. Cue teeth sparkling.**

**Kisses and disses, Gossip Bee**

**X**

"Why'd you drag me here?"

"Because you need a dress for the ball!" Tinsley says as she ran a hand through her honey locks.

The two girls stood outside Barneys'; land of the superficial and overpriced (as Bryn liked to say). Everything about the famous building gave her chills from the super-extravagant window displays to the old lady walking out with her dog that was wearing the same outfit as her.

"And why couldn't we just go to a vintage shop or something?" Bryn argues and crosses her arms. It was an unusually windy day in New York, so both girls were shivering in their Constance skirts.

"Well, can we at least go inside?" Tinsley asks as she loops her arm through Bryn's and drags the rocker into the department store.

Why had she even agreed to come with Tinsley? It wasn't like her brother and Tinsley were even speaking anymore. After the whole ordeal with the STD rumor going around Harper left Tinsley when she needed him, Bryn had to agree that was a pretty dick move from her brother.

"They have the most gorgeous dresses on the third floor." Tinsley looks back in the elevator as she plays with the ends of her refined hair. "I bet we'll be able to find you at least something studded and rocked out for you."

"We better. Cause I don't want to sit through you trying on three hundred dresses." Bryn mumbles as they reach their destination. The floor was extremely bright (something that hurt Bryn seeing as she only got about four hours of sleep last night), the dresses were modeled on something that looked like a futuristic penis, and all the salespeople had the hugest smiles.

_Don_'_t worry_, _Bryn_, _it_'_s really not as bad as you think_.

"Look, I think Vivienne Westwood has a new collection of dresses." Tinsley says as she hands her coat to a salesperson. Bryn reluctantly gave hers to the overly-happy brunette as she followed Tinsley.

"Tinsley, can I ask you something?" Bryn spoke as Tinsley quickly turns around. "Why are you even here with me? You should be, like, hating me and my brother other than trying to help me find a dress."

The gorgeous blonde smiles. "You know what? What you just said sounds just like every other girl on the Upper East Side. So I might not be on speaking terms with Harper. That doesn't exactly mean I'm going to hate you."

Bryn smirks as she ran a hand through her shaggy hair. Maybe Tinsley wasn't all that bad … damn it! As much as she wanted to hate her, Bryn just couldn't find a reason to.

"Look what I found." Tinsley pulls out a dress that was much to Bryn's liking. It was coal black and seemed to brush over the knees. It had no back and a corset-bodice laced with black ribbons. "I think this is perfect for you and I bet you'll look super-hot in it."

"I guess it's not that bad." Bryn says as she grabs it from Tinsley and held it in front of her. "I guess this hellhole actually sells good stuff."

"Wait, until I take you to the shoes." Tinsley told with a wink as she continues to rummage through the racks of different designers for her dress.

Aw, _Rocker B _has finally found herself a gal pal.

"Who would've ever thought I'd see you two here." a girl muses from ahead. Bryn knowing the voice, rolls her eyes before meeting the eyes of the Constance queen. "Especially _together_." She looks as if she just came from school as well, still wearing her plain blouse and skirt. In the hands of her minions were various couture dresses she'd likely host other balls with.

Bryn folds her corset dress under an arm and cocks a brow. "Don't worry, I'm killing her later." she replies with a smirk, inspecting a chain necklace dripping in black gems before turning to Claire. Her crowd shared the same stony gaze. "So why are _you _here? Thought, you'd already have your dress."

Claire's mouth curves in an obnoxious smile. "I do." she admits, running fingers in her silken hair. "It doesn't matter why I'm here but we must talk."

Tinsley blinks and takes a dress off the bar, observes it with a keen eye before happily taking it with her. "About what?" she questions, a bright smile spreading across her face. Before Claire could answer, she flicked a bangle-clad wrist. A grimace overtook her smile, they caught on and scattered throughout the store.

"Taking down Vena, of course," she responds with her smirk easily reappearing. "is it so hard to understand?"

Bryn yawns and tosses an empty pack of cigarettes under the dresses. "So stupid to understand," she mumbles and slid two ruby-studded cuffs off a hook. "I'll be back, Tinsley. Gonna go pay. Tell me, if you find anything." Not bothering to wait for an answer, she strode to the counter.

Claire narrows her eyes at Bryn's back. "It's like she's _taking _the bitch's side." she sneers devilishly. "Vena still wants revenge for what happened in the past but I can assure you she _won_'_t _win."

As much as Tinsley wanted to agree, she was currently feuding with herself. What if Vena won? She already got Harper's vote from what Bryn had told her and was slowly catching Matthew's eye. What would she do if somehow Vena managed to get both Bryn and Claire? She'd be finished.

Tinsley swallows a knot in her throat. "What if she does?"

Claire scowls. "Don't be so negative." she advises. "It won't happen. Plus, we have Bryn and could easily get Javier."

The knot dropped into Tinsley's stomach and lingered as she looked to Bryn, where she could be seen snatching back her leather jacket from the saleswoman.

Tinsley's eyelids flickered. "But … how could we get Javier? You know, he doesn't like to be part of drama."

Claire laughs and threw her head back, adding humor to the tense. "You don't know him like I do. He'd _die _to be in a Vena-situation. He's practically a drama magnet, Tins."

Tinsley shrugs. "Then, get him as long as he accepts, that is."

Claire's smirk forms and dents appear on her brow. "I know exactly how to."

When Tinsley considered blackmailing, she saw her eyes on Bryn while the rebel trails her fingers upon a ragged leather sleeve with a tiny grin.

Since when did Bryn and Javier get along?

**X**

"Steven," Matt shouts to grab his attention, stubbing his cigarette on the hood of a stretch limo in Manhattan. Steven continues to chew his pen, a frown on his brow as he pushes his baseball cap down to obscure his eyes. "get that disgusting pen out of your teeth and just smoke one cigarette. You won't die from it. You can _maybe _if you drink some beer."

Adler didn't budge and shook his head. He twists the pen and continues to chew it as he looks on as a girl lit her boyfriend a cigarette as they strolled into a restaurant. "I promised Bryn I wouldn't smoke, drink or do drugs. I'm not gonna get back into the hospital with lung cancer now. I'm pretty sure she won't be forgiving if I fuck up again."

Matt held out a cigarette with a tempting flick. "Chewing on those pens all day will do nothing but hurt your teeth." he stats, wagging the cigarette. "Just take it. I won't tell Bryn. We've been friends for years. I think I could keep _one _of your secrets."

_That _was true. Before they were in William's band and had met Bryn they were best friends, traveling to the ice rink every Friday with their school class. Matt was already the most-experienced skater and due to DNA: best looking. His hair always shiny, courtesy of his mother who'd never let him leave without combing it. He was shy before and on one of those days, he met Steven.

Steven took the cigarette from Matt and after receiving a lighter, stood it to his lips, spat out the pen and inhaled delightful smoke. Bryn didn't need to know. She would never know because Matt had no reason to tell. And, hey, it was just one cigarette? What's the worst that can do?

"Steven?" a girl says from behind them. They both turn to see Floria. Her curls in a severe knot and half-rings darkened beneath her eyelids. She wore purple lipstick and a sweater the color of smoke. "What are you guys doing here? I thought you didn't like coming to Manhattan."

Steven stills his cigarette. "We don't." he admits. "Just decided to pass through, I haven't been here in a while."

Matt rolls his eyes to a billboard across the street with Rodney emblazoned with two girls and in bold letters, it said below: "You wouldn't want to leave town for _this_."

He thought of calling Rodney but he never answered because he was always preoccupied. He only answered for Bryn since she was one of their lead performer. Compared to Bryn, he knew he was only a lowly guitarist that would never step-up to become a musician in a band like Foo Fighters or Linkin Park.

"Are you going to Claire's thing?" Adler asks. "Everyone seems to be. Don't know why."

Floria scowls at the name. "No." she answers with a hardening face. "It's not my thing."

That just wasn't the answer. She just hated the Upper East Side and Claire and the refined children of the world. She was more boho-chic before classy any day. No one liked her and that was how it'd always stay.

It was a hateful world but someone had to enjoy it.

**X**

Bryn slid her key into the front door, holding a Barneys' bag and her spiked bag on her shoulder. She pushes the door and tosses them down. Today wasn't really bad. She walked through Barneys' as shocking as it sounds. Tinsley and her both found dresses, jewelry, and shoes for tomorrow, which also happens to be her and Harper's seventeenth birthday.

Their last birthday wasn't so comforting.

"I'm home!" Bryn calls upstairs. She knew Harper had already arrived seeing his messenger bag, raised a brow. Usually when she'd say she was home, he would be down the stairs to embrace her as always. Today, there was nothing. Bryn looks around, lighting herself a cigarette and holds it to her lips, still nothing. She blinks before walking to the stairs. "Harper?"

She ascends some steps and heard Harper in his room, likely on the phone with Tinsley or their mother. She silently rose to the hallways, walking to his door as mutely as she could. He didn't notice her as he spoke, fists on the windowsill, the breeze making the room cold and her shudder.

"Yeah … sorry, I can't tomorrow." Harper smiles and is oblivious to her presence as she doesn't bother to make it known. "Okay, I'll talk to you soon. Love you." He shut his phone and Bryn raps her knuckles on the post, he startles backward. "Holy sh – Bryn, you scared me! Can't you at least say you're home?"

Bryn crosses her arms, holding her cigarette off. "I did." she answers. Who could he be talking to? He didn't even tell their mother he loved her over the phone. Harper didn't like saying he loved her because of her terrorism. She paces in and breathes smoke as she speaks. "Who were you talking to?"

Harper raises a brow and scowls. "No one. No one you like, that is."

Bryn rolls her eyes and set the cigarette to her lips again. "I don't like a lot of people," she said with a growing smirk. "so, _who_?"

Harper took a step back, tightening his knuckles around his Android. "Bryn," he begun, knowing she wouldn't give until she had the truth. "It was no one, I swear."

Bryn held out a hand. "Fork it, Harper."

Harper backs away again. She could be really demanding when it came to his lying. He wasn't a good liar and Bryn was best at noticing. She didn't have the patience for his bad lies today but he was still trying to keep going. "No, Bryn." he responds as she took another step in. "You're not getting my phone. You never let me see yours."

Bryn sighs and took out her Blackberry, chucking it over. He caught it clumsily and without asking she snatched his phone. Harper lowered hers and tried to get his but not before she saw his incoming calls.

_Vena  
Vena  
Vena  
Tinsley  
Scott  
Mom  
Vena  
Vena  
Vena_

Bryn flew over the edge as she threw his phone, sweltering anger hardly keeping the cigarette in her mouth. "Why the fuck, are you talking to that bitch all the time?" she screams, punching him as hard as she could. "Do you realize what she's done? She spread that stupid rumor about Tinsley!"

Harper retrieves his phone and places it on his desk. A dent on his forehead hidden in his bangs. "I can't believe you're hung up on this, too. First, it's Tinsley, then Claire, and now you? Jeez, you girls are so negative."

Bryn's eyes enlarged. Her brother didn't believe her? She had to admit it hurt. Even if she was lying Harper would nine out of ten times take her side. What was happening? How could he be caught in Vena's cobweb of lies? "I'm telling the truth!" she protests. "Why won't you believe me?"

Harper didn't say. "You know, I'm gonna go clear my head. I'm not in the mood to hear you."

_Plan B_. Bryn fights her fears, marches to the sill, slid open the window and climbs on the cold stone, balancing herself on the heels of her boots. Her shaggy hair blew in the gusts as she gripped the walls like lifelines. This would literally be the scariest thing she's done in a while. And if she did fall she'd be in the hospital with broken bones if lucky.

Harper was about to leave until he noticed her from the corner of his eye. His eyes grew panicked and he sprinted over. "Bryn!" he cries and clutches his chest. "Get down! You'll hurt yourself!"

Bryn shook her head and held the cigarette in her teeth. "Not until you listen to what I have to say!" she demands and his face contorts with fear. "You're my brother, Harper!" Tears blur her vision but none fell. "You're my _twin_! You're supposed to believe me!"

Trump family card is last resort and always enough to make Harper guilty. It's not that he didn't believe her. It was that he wanted to give the new girl a chance before he actually begun judging.

A tear glistens on Bryn's eyelid. "I swear I'll jump!"

Harper finally went close. "Don't." he compromises, not wanting to raise his voice. "If you jump you'll hurt yourself!"

Bryn rolls her eyes as the wind pained her face. "A broken leg, a fractured arm, a sprained wrist … yeah, I've had it all before. Now, say you'll believe me! Promise me!" The trembling tear descends as she looks him over pleadingly.

Harper extends a hand. "Fine." he surrenders and tosses his hands to the ceiling. "I'll believe you, I promise. I'll listen to whatever you have to say about Vena. Just come down."

Finally accepting his logic, she proceeds until the wind tore up her plans. It builds as she releases the sill and she reaches to plant a hand on her skirt before it could blow up. She shut an eye and whimpers as her hair came into her eyes.

And suddenly she realizes she was falling. Her cigarette slipping and the remaining pack falling from her jacket out the window. Her body twisting as she slings an arm to get the box.

Lengthy arms caught her and she shut her eyes, waiting for the snapping pain but had gotten nothing but her brother's extreme heartbeat. Her eyelids flickered and she met Harper's flushed face. He set her down and slammed his window shut before returning to her feet.

He was still panting when he jabbed a thumb in her face. "Goddamn, Bryn, if you ever ... do something like that again. Shit … I'll yell at you later. Glad … you're okay."

"How nice. My children are finally getting along."

The twins shot forward and they found a man leaning in Harper's doorjamb. Dark hair short, dimples marked his cheeks, and a questioning dent carved into his brows. His striped tie and two-button blazer were professional, his eyes sparkled a handsome green as he chuckled. "Did I miss something?"

Bryn jumps past Harper and dashes for the man with an ecstatic grin, hugging his neck. "Daddy!" she shouts like a child. "I missed you so much! How's Switzerland?"

"Great, Kitten. But, what have you done to your hair?" he asks, running his fingers through the knots, inquiry in his eyes. "It's … different. I always knew you had the rock in you. I just never thought you'd cut your hair like one."

Her eyes sadden in a pout. "You don't like it?"

He shook his head. "No. I love it."

Bryn's uncharacteristically sweet to their father. She listens to his every word and if he didn't like something she'd get rid of it. If he didn't like her pierced cartilage, she'd wait for it to close, if he didn't like her addiction to smoking she'd stop on the spot.

Like all things he didn't know.

"Come, Harper." Their father, Jackson Blackwell motions for his eldest. "How've you been? I haven't seen you in so long."

Harper smiles. "Cool, Dad. Thanks. It's nice to see you, too."

Jackson pats Bryn's shoulders and laughs. "Okay, Bryn, I'm sure I won't be going anywhere for a while."

"So, I've figured …" She scowls mockingly and doesn't give until her phone sings an Alice in Chains song. "But Dad, you should definitely stay for our birthday. We could go out for breakfast and sh … stuff like that."

He smiles and ruffles his daughter's hair. "I'd love that."

Aw. Family moment, don't we all want one of those cheesy moments?

Eh, not really.

**X**

"Are the drinks ready?" Claire asks as she dusts off her Stella McCartney mini. Her tresses settled in an aristocratic knot, curls dangle and tickle her face. A waiter in a white suit nods approvingly. Tangerine curtains rustle in the evening breeze. The tables curtained in white skirts and sprays of pink peonies in priceless vases. Claire whips to her opposite side and looks down another hall that led to the smokers' area. Bryn would likely be down there. She had to get the doors open because most were already waiting in the grand foyer for her flourishes.

Claire turns to give her champagne glass away for a refill. Smiles proudly at her handiwork and turns to the doormen. "Open the doors."

As on cue, they unlock the doors and in came dozens, all in designer suits and gowns. They gape in wonderment while others smirk. Meanwhile, Javier clad in a suit, steps in, looks around. She rose her glass. "To a night to remember!" she announces, the people applaud and scream excitedly.

"My, my," Javier muses as he approaches. Blonde hair tousled and hands tucked in pockets, a sheen black tie in place. Claire narrows her eyes as she takes an appropriate sip. "Who would've thought you would throw such a … ball." Despite the code for masks he didn't have one, Claire held her butterfly mask under one arm.

"I'm still trying to figure out why I invited you." Claire says with a venomous smile. "Oh, yes. I need your help on something, Javi."

Javier blinks, feigning confusion. "Me?" he repeats. "Why? You didn't even want to invite me."

Claire's sweet smile twists into a scowl. "Tinsley and I are trying to work on getting rid of Vena. We could really use your help." Despite Bryn also being a part she didn't want to mention her name until she managed to trap Javier in one of Vena's webs.

Javier took a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, throwing his head back in a swig while Lady Gaga's 'Teeth' boomed on. "No, thanks." he answers with a smirk. "I may not like Vena much but we once had a fling. I doubt I'd want to do something to spite her just_ yet_."

"Liar," she snarls under the commotion. "you want to take Vena down just as bad as I do. You just won't admit it because you're only looking in for yourself."

Taking another sip. "You're the same so I wouldn't be talking, if I were you. You're only after the lowlife from Brooklyn. Dean, was it?"

Claire's frown broadens but she doesn't deny it. Only vanishes into the crowd, she didn't find an answer so second best was to flee.

"Hmm, that's the most intelligent thing she's done all day." Javier muses before heading in the opposite direction.

Cue "aw" here. _J_ didn't mean to make you cry, _Queen C_.

**X**

"I can't believe we're finally here." Harper says as he and Bryn arrive, giving the doormen their names. A crowd of uninvited guests had already tried to sneak in. The place was grand and bright with chandeliers, couples embrace and reminisce on the October memories they shared. "Don't you think? I never thought I'd be at one of Claire's parties after our breakup."

Bryn stubs her cigarette. She wore the backless dress from earlier and her hair loose despite wanting it in a ponytail. Ray Bans on her crown as she flings her cigarette. "Claire isn't one to hold a grudge against her exes unless you really fucked-up." she told her brother while he also didn't sport a mask. He wasn't into the whole thing either. Plus, it was his birthday so he had a reason. "But you didn't. So no worries."

Harper ran his fingers into his pomaded hair and tugs his gray tie. "What if Tinsley's still mad?" he asks. "She'll probably hit me."

Bryn rolls her eyes and clicks her heels on the tiles. "Of course, she's gonna be mad," she continues after a lifelong pause. "And I hit you all the time and the worst I've ever given you was a bruise. She's just as harmless as me. Use your charm and you two will be making out on the roof in seconds."

Harper sighs but smiles. "Bryn."

Bryn raises an arms and grins. 'Teeth' ends in the opening beats of Cobra Starship's 'Living in the Sky with Diamonds.' "Yeah, I know." She stole a crystal tumbler from a waiter. "It's not my fault, I'm so honest."

"Bryn, Harper, you've arrived." Claire says as she appears at their side, holding up her butterfly mask to make a point. "Yet no masks."

Bryn pushes down her gray frames and raises a brow. "This is as close as a mask I'll ever have."

Harper shrugs. "I just couldn't find one."

Bryn looks between them, lifting her sunglasses back into her hair. "At least he was honest."

Claire rolls her eyes and smiles at Harper. "You're lucky, it's your birthday." She sees Dean pass, wearing a rumpled black suit. Claire smirks and excuses herself until she catches Winnie hot on his tail in a gold-and-strawberry cocktail dress.

Bryn took Harper by the arm and led him in. "Now, go." she commands, shoving him in the back while mask-clad Upper East Siders mingle all around. "Go find Tinsley. Not gonna stop you tonight."

Instead of stopping and not wanting to leave Bryn since the incident on the sill, looks at her warmly, nods, and disappears into the crowd. Bryn dusts her hands on her dress and slumps in a comfy chair, downing wine casually.

"Never thought I'd see you here." Javier's voice tickles her neck as she places her glass down. "You don't seem like the type to come to one of Claire's many balls."

"I'm honestly not. But I needed somethin' to do." she admits truthfully, couples begin grouping and slow-waltzing to a sweet song. _Gag_. She's never been so glad she didn't know how to waltz or tango or any of those stupid dances but jump like a rock goddess. "Aren't you gonna take one of your whores and dance tonight?"

Javier smirks, not the least bit offended. "No." He holds out a hand while she stares in confusion. "I would rather honor you in a dance, Miss Blackwell."

Bryn blinks, returning the smirk. "No, thanks, I don't exactly know the number of girls you touched tonight." she answers. "Plus, Javi, I don't know how to dance." She reaches for her glass but his hand caught her wrist and he forces her onto her feet.

His smirk never vanishes when his eyes narrow. "Why don't I teach you?"

Bryn shook her head. She wasn't going to embarrass herself in front of people she didn't know and once he'd see her dance she was pretty sure he'd laugh. The only dancing she did was onstage when in the corset. "No, come on. _No_! I'll scream, I swear." She tried wrenching free but he kept a firm grip. "Dude!"

"Can't you at least act more like a girl?"

"You're the one wanting to dance with me!"

"Well, wouldn't you want to learn how to dance?"

"I know how to dance. Now, let me _go_."

Javier helps shift her frame, his arm righting her waist as he locks their fingers, smiling indifferently. That cockiness was still in it but had weakened. "Look, we're here. Put your arms around my neck."

"No."

Javier blinks and he was still. "Why?"

"Because I'm pretty sure you're gonna think something of this."

He sighs. "Just … come on. I'm not. I won't."

Reluctantly, her fingers cautiously met his shoulder and she felt his firmness and knew her heart skipped. He carefully leads back, causing her to stumble but before she could make a complete fool of herself, he caught her. A dent curved on her brow in annoyance. "I hope you enjoy embarrassing me for the night," she murmurs as they slow-dance. "I can assure you, it'll never happen again."

Javier continues about and smiles. "You're not going to be embarrassed. Aren't you, Bryn Blackwell? You're supposed to care less on what people say about you."

Bryn turns away. Why did he have to be so right? Who would've ever thought he'd be right about something.

"Shut up," she mumbles and from behind his steel exterior, a twinge of fear appears and his grip on her tightens as he quickly spun her across the floor, his grip wanes in a smile. "And stop spinning. It's making me dizzy." About a moment later, a burst of glass pops and she blinks. "Did you hear that?"

When she heard no response, she reaches to turn. His fingers caught her chin, keeping her in his eyes.

"Ignore it," he drawls and spins her again, much to her disliking. "probably just someone dropping their martini."

"Whatever."

Javier ignores her as he looks to see Vena on the balcony, snapping her fingers from a failed attempt. An urn's shards scattered across the dance floor and crunching beneath the soles of Bryn's platforms as she moves, unnoticing the danger he rescued her from.

See everyone? _J_ does have a heart.

**X**

"Damn drinks are _good_."

"Um, Matt, you just had your ninth shot."

Matt waves him off nonchalantly. He wore a black dress shirt with the sleeves pushed to his elbows and a crooked green tie. Drunkenness glazed in his eyes as he shoves empty shot glasses away. His anxiety consumed him hours ago and he started downing them like morning coffee. "I'm fine, _Steve_." he slurs and swivels while Steven sat with disapproval. "Wha –? You always seem to look mad all dah time."

Steven shook his head and was dressed in a hoodie over a gray graphic tee, a drumstick hooked to his belt. "That sounds like something I'd say but _stop_, Matt." he claims, lighting himself a cigarette and looking around to see if Bryn was close. She couldn't know about his smoking that's all he needed. He'd been smart enough to not take a drink and wasn't going to start now. "You're gonna pass out."

Matt shoves Steven in the chest, nearly falling from his chair. "Stop being sucha bitch. Iss annoyin'."

Steven rolls his eyes and coughs smoke. He clearly remembers when he'd drunkenly called a sober Matt a bitch. Let's just say he wasn't too happy and without second thought he'd been punched, knocking him out and dragging him home. He woke the next morning with a ballooned lip and bloody nose.

But if _he _punched Matt, he would only fall out of his chair, get back up, and give him a black eye.

Ah, friendship.

Steven shut his eyes and puts a cigarette to his lips in silence. Why did he even come here? He didn't have a date. Only a drunken Stradlin on his hands and he didn't want to spend his night leading around a drunk, who was supposed to be the smarter one of the two. Damn.

Two catlike screeches suddenly emitted from the girls' restroom as the signature gossip buzz made everyone's phone volume increase while smokers and drinkers turn to their phones with chuckles and slurs. Steven flips open his phone to see Gossip Bee's page. _LIVE FEED_ alight.

**Live feed time! I'm lucky enough to witness the first of the season in person.**

_Claire and Vena roll across the tiles while the camera recording them fuzzes. The two girls claw at each other_'_s extensions_,_ tearing clumps and throwing them out onto the marble_._ Jewelry clatters and sparkly diamonds catch the camera in a glare as they continue to yank vicious amounts of fabric_.

_Claire slaps Vena across the face while Vena heatedly scratches at the queen bee_,_ leaving jagged cuts across her arms_. "_That_'_ll show you to mess with Harper_!"_ Claire yells_,_ cheeks flushing and updo loosening_. "_Never mess with my friends_!"

"_Please_,"_ Vena snarls_,_ sponging leaky blood off a scratch on her cheek and launching a quivering fist at Claire in an attempt to get her off_. "_You could care less about those losers_!"

_Claire_'_s manicured nails curl around the collar of Vena_'_s blouse_,_ yanking her from the tiles_. "_If you ever say anything about them again I will have you _forced _out of New York and shipped off to a crazy institution down in Granada Hills_!_ You psycho bitch_!"

_Vena smirks and licks her bruised lip_. "_You only talk_,_ don_'_t attack_._ Like an animal_."

_Claire threw Vena back down_. "_Do you even see this_?_ I_'_m practically beating the living hell out of you_!"

_Vena shook her head and shoves Claire_,_ brushing extensions off her skirt like a pretend princess_. "_Think of this as one of only wins_,_ Clarissa_."_ She jabs a finger at Claire while her own glare forms_. "_You may have won the battle but you won_'_t win the war_."

_She smoothes her hair and wipes leftover blood on her sleeve_. "_Ciao_,"_ she ends_,_ exiting the scene and leaving a battered hostess behind_.

_The bathroom stall slams shut_.

"_Hope you enjoyed_."

**Click, click, boom, I've never had so much faith in **_**Queen C **_**in a **_**long**_** time.**

"Wow." Steven laughs. "_that_ was interesting." Drunkards around him laugh and agree in gurgled words. He turns to check if Stradlin still resided beside him but he was now gone. "Oh, great." He shuts his phone and pockets it. "All I wanted to do my whole life was search for a drunk."

He left his chair and went searching. As he disappeared, a man holding a pipe and clad in a sheepskin vest and ten-gallon hat, slapped his knee. "Well _dayuuum_, been a long time since ah seen gals fight like that!"

The man across from him, wearing the identical outfit, agreed. "Ah here ya, partner!"

**X**

"Tinsley ..." Harper calls, pushing through the masked guests to search for her. She probably left already since his search has been unsuccessful. "Where the hell are you?" Many other blondes were in the area but he already knew they weren't her. She had a specificness to her that no other could compare to.

She was the one. He's never felt this when he dated Claire or Floria. He always enjoyed and savored every moment they had because of how she made him feel. When his heart had been destroyed, he was supposed to be the strong one but couldn't stop mourning and that's when Bryn took revenge against the girls he got close to.

As long as they got along, he wouldn't be bothered and would only stay out of their friendship which Bryn didn't consider. She saw it as a simple gesture of forced kindness but he knew deep inside, she found something she liked in Tinsley and wouldn't torture her like she did the others.

And he was such a jerk to Tinsley earlier, choosing Vena when she was rumored to have an STD. He still couldn't believe he did something so _terrible_.

He needed to ask for forgiveness but knew that wouldn't do it.

What could –?

"Harper, what're you doing here?"

Harper reacts like lightning to see Tinsley. Honeyed waves graced her shoulders, her dress blown out in a twirl of brightly-colored tulle and she held a swallowtail mask in one hand. Her dress was nude pink and strung in intricate black lace. "I … um," he starts and stares widely. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for leaving you and being cruel. I was terrible. Really, I was. And I'm horribly sorry for it. Believe me, please."

When she didn't speak, he continued. "I was stupid and I know you won't forgive me but I still wanted to admit this to you. I've never run from my problems and I won't start now. The least I could do is this."

Tinsley gapes and shortly after, brought her lips together. "Why … did you apologize?"

Harper took in necessary air and looks at her with blue eyes sunken in significance. "Because I ... I _love _you."

It seemed for both of them all time stopped. Tinsley took his wrist, led him through the halls and spiraling stairs to the roof. The door was ajar, city lights and a variety of streetlamps twinkled, channeling a scene from _Midnight in Paris_. She wraps her arms around Harper's rigid physique while he stares. She grins and her eyes did close to the same. He cradles her face and they reflexively lean for one another.

And suddenly, they were kissing. Looking as adoring as Scarlett and Rhett. Rose and Jack. Holly and Paul.

They broke off and Tinsley's smile never fell when they continue into each other's eyes. "I love you, too." she confesses against his soft stare, then kissed his cheek gently. "And that was for your birthday."

Harper smirks and arches a brow. "Don't you have to kiss Bryn now? It's her birthday, too."

Tinsley laughs and playfully punches his bicep. "Shut up."

So he did and they were kissing again.

**X**

Bryn watches Javier and Vena share a waltz. Tedium devastating her as she drank a variety of pungent wines from a tray of wineglasses on the craft-service table. She wasn't jealous. Maybe bombed. _Not _jealous. She just needed a break from music. Madonna made it look easy.

So she'd spend nearly hours a day in a filthy studio, straining her voice until her throat seared. The record producer was cruel to her and the guys. His insults were meant to be critical but _hurt_. It made her wonder.

How did these sweet guys meet someone as intolerable as him, anyway? She could only imagine how they were treated before she joined the band. This seemed like a sweet dream gone nightmare. The worst of all was that she couldn't tell anyone of what she suffered. Floria, Steven, Matt, Harper …

Or what? The band would be dropped and disappear off the planet.

Bryn sighs and eats a black cherry, battling the urge for tears when she pictures Scott's glacier hands on her face or his sickening smirk burning into her brain. Adam's wide eyes, Marcus and Landon's frantic begging …

Javier's mouth caught her throat as she swallows the cherry. Vena flees with a slight limp. Despite wanting to shove him off, she enjoyed it. The sensation made her heartache weaken. She chokes on a laugh and felt her eyes hazing. Javier's eyes open and he notices the glisten in her eyes. His lips fled her neck. "What's wrong?" he inquires and suddenly sounded _concerned_. "You look close to tears."

Bryn shook her head and reclines in her chair. "I'm fine. It's none of your concern."

Javier's hand lingers over hers. "If you're upset, it _is _my concern."

She sniffles but doesn't cry. "You only care about me because of my slutty stage act. I'm not stupid. Any guy would like a blonde chick onstage in a corset, moaning at them and basically revealing themselves."

"Yes, any guy. I'm not just _any guy_."

Bryn laughs. "I shoulda figured." She stands and snatches his hand. She'd never noticed the warmth in his grip. As she leads him in the foyer, she halts them halfway and breathes sharply. "I'll tell you about my dramatic life someday. But first –" She took his face in her hands and kisses him as neither decide to break it. His arms encircle her waist as her fingers tangle into his hair. He bumps her against the wall and she's already claiming his tie.

"Wait," Javier breaks their kiss, looks around suspiciously before smirking down at her. "why don't we take this … somewhere _else_?"

She only smirks.

**X**

Bryn finally got into the family car, nearly asleep. What an enjoyable night she had. Dad visits for her birthday, Harper spends time with Tinsley, she spends time with Javier, and all was well. She would smoke, kick off her heels, listen to Blondie's _Plastic Letters_, and collapse into bed with music in her ears and heart.

Damn, life was great.

The limo came to a halt and Harper messaged her earlier while she was with Javier in his suite, saying he may be returning late. As long as Vena wasn't involved she'd get a great sleep. She'd even heard Claire had beat the living hell out of her. She wishes she was there to witness but how'd Vena even get into the party? That was the unanswered.

Bryn grins and grabs her bag. "Thanks. You're dismissed."

The man did nothing but smile and tip his hat. Man of no words. He pointedly unlocks her door and she slid out, noticing her father's convertible. He told them he was going to visit old friends but must've returned early. She could tell him about the partying she had. He'd sure love to hear that!

She was about to push her key in when she shook the knob, it snailed back against the wall. Bryn enters and withdrew her keys. One of the idiot maids must've left the door unlocked. That's all she'd need. Let someone sneak in and rob her family possessions.

She flicks on a light switch, brightening the halls in orange light. It was silent. Her father would be awake around this time, smoking herbal cigarettes and reciting Catholic verses he learnt in college.

"Dad?" Bryn calls, receiving no reply. He probably fell asleep. The flight from Switzerland to New York isn't the shortest. She walks into his room and saw his silhouette in the dark, head and limbs motionless as doll parts. Cautiously, she steps in, not wanting to wake him. "Dad?" She shook his arm. He didn't stir or shift, not a movement.

_Not even a breath_.

Bryn bit her lip. He was only sleeping, he was like Harper, a heavy sleeper.

She taps his arm and notices the daily newspaper strewn all across the carpet. "Daddy?" she demands, going for a lamp. The stink was terrible and she realized his room smelt like bitter leaves. A broken pipe lay by his foot and she didn't even hear a breath come from him. "_Daddy_?"

"_Daddy_? DADDY!"

Nothing. Perfect stillness.

She didn't know whether to cry or scream. She needed someone. They could take him to the hospital. He was probably just knocked-out. He always wore himself out easily. Maybe he had pneumonia. They could give him medicine and he'd be all better in the morning, then take her out for morning breakfast.

She knew that wasn't the answer.

So instead of screaming or crying –

She did both.


	8. Chapter 8

Bryn sits on the balcony of her parents' room, hair mussed and in her dress from last night, the ebony ribbons on the corset-back loose and tangled. She stares into the horizon as the sun rose from beyond the gray sky. She hadn't gotten a wink of sleep and her broken heart seared. She's been switching between her father's study and the balcony for days.

It was because of the unexplained passing of Jackson Blackwell that occurred two nights ago, who looked forced into slumber. It broke her heart how he looked so dull and unlike himself with a thin frown, haggard complexion, and a face free of dimples and affection.

She clutches the blanket around her and her gaze doesn't shift from the sun. The screen door slides open and out came Harper, who sat beside her, still wearing his suit from the previous night. His rumpled dress shirt exposed a well-toned chest, his hair stuck up at all angles, a shadow of stubble veiled his jaw, and dark rings circled his eyes. He looked just as terrible as she.

"Bryn," he mumbles, obviously exhausted. "you should come inside. It's really cold out. You're gonna get sick."

Despite wanting to add some sort of wit on how she'd rather catch a cold and pass out than have to deal with the brutal world, she couldn't find her right mind and only nodded, not even building the enough energy to write lyrics or practice. It felt like her heart was frostbitten.

"I'll come in soon." she manages. "Let me just stay here to think, I'm just - I don't know … I don't know anymore."

She looks down at her hands and as many times as she had washed them they still felt soiled with the sick touch of death from her father. She hadn't even realized how cold his flesh was.

But she knew Harper wouldn't spend time lecturing her. He knew her pain and shared it. He didn't give her his apologies or offer a reassurance because they both knew it wouldn't be for a while.

So when a cold bead drips onto her shoulder, she found him frowning, a streak of tears glistening on his cheekbone, his lips parted and eyes wild with anguish. "I'm sorry," he apologizes and his eyes dampen. "Honestly, I ... am."

She crawls closer, stares with eyes that slowly began tearing before crushing herself into him, digging her nails into his back as he pulls her in, murmuring gibberish and sobbing. "Harper, please don't cry," she murmurs against their locked arms. "or you're gonna make me cry, too."

"I'm sorry!" He sobs into her shoulders as she attempts to calm him, arms encircling one another in protective cages. Her vision fogs over and his face becomes invisible as she shakes her head, clothing and limbs drowning in ice and salt. "I'm _so _sorry!"

Her navy mascara stripes her face in ugly smudges of tears. "Harper … shh."

Twins share everything. Voices, genders, appearances, sometimes even personalities.

But the Blackwell twins are only sharing one thing in common today –

Tears.

**X**

Dean leans against a bench in Central Park, the wood cracked and one plank was missing. He didn't care because he was busy trying to think why Claire had purposely sabotaged Winnie at the gala she hosted recently. It wasn't surprising that Claire didn't like Winnie either. He should've grown accustomed to her cold nature by now.

He drinks his decaf from a foam cup, listening to the sparrows in the trees. Watches pigeons peck a grimy, half-eaten onion bagel. But again, didn't care. Because he knew plainly by the glares Claire always gave him that she felt nothing for him and considered him a slob. Right?

The memory reels in his head like a classic rerun.

_He sat_,_ slicking his fingers through his hair while watching couples waltz like professionals_,_ one which happened to be Bryn and Javier_._ Who would've ever thought the great heartbreakers of the UES would end up together_?_ Because who _didn't _know of the Pesavento_/_Blackwell scandal and Javier's wild past_?

"_Hey_,_ Dean_,"_ Claire called_,_ sauntering over as he devoured a cheese cube. _"_Are you enjoying yourself tonight_?"_ She looked bruised and tired. A yellow bruise beneath her left eye and a few scratches on her forearms_._ He could only imagine what happened_._ Claire didn't seem like the type to brawl on a floor_,_ ripping another girl_'_s extensions out_.

_It was also surprising to see her not strike up better conversation_._ She might as well have asked him about the weather_._ She was supposed to be the fearless queen and here she was questioning him about his night_.

_Dean shrugged_,_ not at all troubled_. "_Fine_."_ he answered_,_ tossing a toothpick in a bin under the table_. "_You sure know how to go all out_,_ Claire_._ This is really unlike your usual standards_."

_Claire giggled and twirled her hair_. "_Thanks_,"_ she trilled with a smile_. "_I was trying to get it to a different level for October. By the way_,_ aren_'_t you going to dance_?"

_Dean shook his head_._ He wasn_'_t much of a dancer and was glad for that_._ Apparently Bryn wasn't either seeing as she practically crushed Javier_'_s toes_._ Despite the pain_,_ he stayed in Bryn's eyes_. "_No_."_ he answered_,_ almost rudely_._ "Dancing isn_'_t my thing_."

_Claire laughed and stole a wineglass off the table_. "_Surprisingly enough_,_ I don_'_t like it either_."_ In the background_,_ the song _'_Nothin_'_ On You_'_ begun in remix beats. Bryn left the floor immediately and took a flute of champagne from a waiter as she hurried to the smoking room_.

_The corners of Dean_'_s mouth rose_. "_That _is _surprising_."_ he agreed_,_ watching Claire lower her champagne. He never thought he_'_d ask this_. "_Come on_,_ why don't we go for a walk_? _Let_'_s find a balcony and stare at the stars like some clichéd movie couple_."

_Claire smirked_. "_As stupid as that sounds_,_ I_'_ll join_."

_They rose to their feet_,_ strode never_-_ending corridors_,_ and descended stairwells to reach the balcony with the best view_._ City lights shimmered and building roofs illuminated in changing color_. "_I have my days where I don't like it here_,"_ Dean muses_. "_but sometimes the view makes it worth it_."

"_It_'_s really gorgeous_,_ isn_'_t it_?"_ she inquired_,_ his hand slowly finding hers_._ What was he doing_?_ Who would_'_ve thought he_'_d make a move on Claire_?_ "New York sure is something ..."_

_Dean nods and smiles_._ Did he like Claire_?_ They weren_'_t that close and he was almost closer to Bryn since he had met her at Antonio's days ago_._ They both ironically shared a love for short stories_.

_Suddenly he found himself leaning in _–_ was he going to kiss her_?_ New York is always flooded with surprise. What could one kiss mean_?

_As they approached one another_,_ eyes shutting_,_ soft tickling of breath_,_ and lips barely apart_.

_Then _–

"_Dean_!"_ a distressed girl cried_._ They startled apart to see Winnie_,_ her cocktail dress in tatters_,_ rips in the silk bodice exposed her taut stomach. She looked ready to scream despite her pious nature._

"_Do you see what Claire's done to me_?"_ she demanded, directing to her dress and the wine stains embedded in the fabric_. "_She got her minions to do these _..._ terrible things to me_!"

_Dean stared at Claire in disbelief_. "_Did you really_?"

_Claire opened her mouth to speak but quickly shut it, staring at her heels sadly_._ Dean rolled his eyes_._ He should've known _...

_Without meeting her eyes_,_ he removed his jacket_,_ placed it over Winnie_'_s shoulders and left down the hall with her_. _Her cross was scratched and sticky with the remnants of a Nairtini_.

_Though he felt bad for Winnie he still wanted to spend more time with Claire_.

_Was that so wrong_?

Dean continued to linger until it was time for school. Maybe he'd run into Claire again because she'd surely have another party. He discards his thoughts when he finds Bryn on the street, trying to light a cigarette. She eventually flung the unlit cigarette into a flowerbed when she couldn't.

She's in front of him before he realizes it and he could see her crisis if he were blind. Disheveled hair in a topknot and her blue eyes stony and desperate. Surprisingly enough, she wore her full uniform without even her typical rock flair. "Hey," she greets, voice cracking. "mind if I sit?"

He had to lighten her mood. "Sure, don't ask," She forces a smile and slumps down, exhaling like she could barely breathe. "something wrong? You usually seem more upbeat."

She stares at him widely. "If … if I tell you. You have to promise on God, Jesus, Mary, all that religious shit to not tell _anyone_. You follow?" she vows. He nods and was about to assure her until she held up a ringed little finger. "Pinky swear."

Dean raises an amused brow and laughs, interlocking pinkies momentarily. "You sure are something."

Her smile fades and she stares at the cigarette in the grass, the cobblestone pavements, the tiny bluebirds, anything but him. "My dad just passed."

Dean frowns. He felt bad and wanted to give her an assurance but since he hadn't really grown up with his father he had nothing.

So he opens his arms to her in a deserving embrace. She slid over and fell into his arms, not returning it but feeling her depression soften the slightest. Her chest pounded like a drum against his. It made him worry and wish he could do something.

"Damn, I miss him," she says and buries her head into his neck.

Her father was definitely something good if he made her feel like this.

**X**

"Hi, Steven," Tinsley chimes with a smile. Harper and she had the best evening and it was even better that it was his birthday. What worried her was that she hadn't spoken to him since that day and from what she heard he was pretty shaken up. She didn't do anything, right?

Steven sat on a table in the courtyard, lighting himself a cigarette. The skin around his eye was purple and swollen. He had cut his hair also. The once unruliness of a true grunge artist was now define, parted through the center and curling at his nape. "Yo," he replies, blowing smoke in her direction. "how's it been?"

Tinsley shrugs. "Alright, I guess. The party seemed go – what happened to your eye?"

Steven blinks and suddenly remembers, fingering around the bruised skin with a wince. "I kinda punched Matt when he was drunk and he threw me over a table."

From the opposite end of the table, Matt glares, holds his head in his hands with a cigarette. "I already said sorry, Steven. I was drunk."

Steven rolls his eyes and lowers his baseball cap to obscure his black eye. "And stupid. Wait, you already are."

Matt sighs and smiles friendlily at Tinsley, lifting his head. "Just ignore him. Have you seen Bryn or Harper? We've been looking for them."

"That's odd," Tinsley adds and looks around but can't find them either. "I hope they're okay."

"It's a first actually." Steven bites a hangnail and takes a drag. "Usually Harper and Bryn are here before we are."

She scowls. It was shocking to know not even they seen them because they usually keep the strongest tabs on them. Maybe they were sleeping in or taking a free day. It wasn't like them to avoid their friends like this.

"Steven!"

The three spun around to see Bryn standing behind them. She looked ready to cry at the cigarette in Steven's hand but that didn't seem like it'd set her off. He extinguishes his cigarette while he stares at Bryn nervously. "You promised you wouldn't," she whispers, eyes strangely glistening.

"Bryn," Steven calls, reaching for her. "it was just –"

Bryn gave him the finger and shook her head. "I seriously don't wanna hear it, I'm not in one of my greatest moods so go smoke and drink 'til you kill yourself just don't come to me if you do." And she heads off, combat boots stomping noisily. They had all gone silent.

Steven climbs to his feet, ready to chase after her, not even properly greeting Tinsley or Matt as she vanishes into the white Constance doors. He could only return to his seat. "I'm so fucking stupid."

Matt smiles like a monster. "I think we can all agree on that today."

Tinsley watches Constance girls enter after Bryn had. She'd talk to her while in music class, pluck some notes, and then head into cafetria for yogurt. Bryn wasn't one to have such a temper with her friends. What _had_ gone on?

"I hope she's okay," Tinsley told Steven while he tosses a pack of cigarettes into the trash, attempting a smile.

A golden blur hurries by while Tinsley watches, unable to catch their face before looking back to an angry Matt and pained Steven. Automatically their phones beeped which made Tinsley jump before she pops open her phone, reading a new gossip blast.

**Hello, Upper East Siders. We've got an awfully short blast today considering the three deaths I've been noted of. Two of these three lovelies we know well. Prepare the Kleenex and ice cream everyone. Cherry Garcia tastes good with tears.**

(_A picture of Bryn appears_,_ holding the finger to Steven in all her misery_._ Her hair in knots and rings beneath her eyes_,_ anguished frowns reside on her eyebrows_)

**Bryn Blackwell **

**Little Bryn here sticks middle fingers to her friends and is actually beginning to cry afterward. Who would've thought our little punk bombshell would go soft? Sadly, I would've never thought of seeing the rocker go weak especially when not even able to smoke a breakfast cigarette.**

(_Another picture of Bryn shows in Central Park_,_ frantically trying to light a cigarette in her teeth_)

**Anyway, time to contribute to the others.**

(_Harper is seen and he appears to be purchasing joints with guy friends in a rundown pizzeria_._ His tie undone while he pays the scrawny clerk_)

**Harper Blackwell**

**St. Jude's purest is seen going mad and buying joints for his buddies. I knew it'd happen sooner or later so I'm not too surprised. I'm wondering what **_**Not So Sweet T**_ **will do considering her rock is dropping into the mud of drugs – the same she used to be in, might I add? I'll join a **_**Bad H **_**for a drink any day.**

**Oh! And did anyone see this?**

(_A filmy image of Harper is shown holding a joint, inspecting it as if it's a treasured artifact_._ His eyes slit like a cobra_'_s while his friends grin_)

**Still not surprising but it makes for some good plot twisters. I literally choked on my ravioli when seeing this and just happened to be one of the lucky witnesses of **_**H**_**'s** **wild side. Certainly, he must've gotten it from his beer-drowning sister or late father, who did I mention just died on their birthday?**

**That reminds me! Enjoy!**

**Jackson Blackwell **

**Man, he didn't last long. I thought he would because he was sorta hot in his day. But seriously, dying from something as typical as an overdose? Jeez, you're no Jackass star. You might as well have committed suicide like the rest of the druggies of the world. Anyway, I have to be considerate enough to add something sweet.**

**Nothing comes to mind. So enjoy the snippet!**

(_A final picture comes to the screen with no color of a young Jackson, looking taken from a high school yearbook_._ His teeth are crooked and his hair is matted to his forehead_)

Steven shuts his phone and slides it away, staring into an oblivion of racing thoughts. Bryn and Harper's father _died_? He had to admit it was horrible. Probably seeing him with that cigarette only made the flames in her become a dangerous firestorm. He didn't think he could do enough to make it up to her.

"That blogger is plain cruel to embarrass them like that." Matt says, breaking the berg of silence holding them together. "That was damn terrible."

Steven doesn't bother to reach for his phone as he rubs his jaw. "That's a bitch for you. We can't do anything but hope they'll be alright. Right, Tinsley?"

Tinsley nods, uninterested. She still couldn't believe it.

But only knew one thing –

She had to help them.

**X**

Javier and Claire walk to school after Javier had taken twenty minutes in trying to convince her to join him for breakfast. She eventually gave when he offered to pay for her morning latte and pastry. _The perfect gentleman_.

Claire glances at Javier from the corner of her eye. Usually, he'd brag about the whores he had in his room each evening. He was silent and reading off his phone today.

"What's with you?" she demands and adds venom to get through to him. He blinks and turns to her in little surprise. "You're usually bragging."

Javier smirks. "True," he admits and gazes at her. She could see the daily _New York Times _headlines on his phone screen. "Did you notice Vena had snuck into your ball the other night? She only tried to ruin it."

Claire rolls her eyes and sips her pumpkin spice latte while she watches an overly-dressed woman strut down the street with her well-groomed Pomeranian. She notices Javier's silence and turns to look at him as he reads his phone again. His eyes are emotionless. She takes his phone off him and is greeted with a horrible headline.

_**Famed philanthropist and renowned businessman Jackson Blackwell found dead in Manhattan home**_

"Oh, God," Claire mumbles, color draining from her face. "I can't believe it. I truly can't." She shakes her head, nearly dropping the phone. She could only imagine how Bryn and Harper were dealing with the loss. She worried for them the most because Luciana, their mother and Jackson's former wife, wouldn't give a damn. However, she had the decency to care for her ex-boyfriend's father.

Javier took his phone back. "Jackson was Bryn and Harper's father."

Claire didn't pay mind because of her thoughts as she had never personally been close to their father. Though she spoke with him when she had dated Harper in the past, she realized Bryn acted more like his father rather his mother which didn't surprise her considering how they were supposedly polite, fearless, and overprotective.

She remembers something she witnessed when she'd spent a night at the Blackwell Mansion. It was so long ago that everything was almost normal in life _almost_.

_Claire walked through the abandoned corridors of the mansion after powdering her nose_._ Jackson Blackwell was currently in the house beyond one of the many doors_._ Even when not in his workplace in Switzerland_,_ he was locked away in his study where not even Bryn went to bother him. _

_Halfway through the lonely halls, voices halted her and she was met with an office room, a gold plague that said _'_JB_'_ tacked to the door_._ It only took seconds for her to realize it was Jackson's study_._ The door was agape and though it was unlike her_,_ she couldn't help but peek in_.

_Bryn stood before her father_,_ eyes pained and red with tears_. "_ – you said something like that!" she hissed_._ It was strange to see her have an attitude with her father_. "_I loved David_!_ More than anything_!_ How was I supposed to know he_'_d betray me_?"

_Jackson looks down at her_, _eyes narrow and sad_._ He hated to upset his children_. "_Kitten_,_ please_._ I would never mean to hurt you_."_ he responded_,_ a frown on his brow_. "_I never trusted that Pesavento_._ He isn_'_t for anyone I_'_d never say anything wrong to my blood_."

_Bryn shook her head and her breathing was unsteady_. "_I'm sorry_,"_ she said_,_ looking as shameful as she felt, tilting her head to the ceiling_. "_I never meant to drag you and Harper into this_ …_ I never expected for David to do what he did_._ I thought he loved me like I loved him_."

_He scowled_._ He hated apologies they did nothing and when he was about to tell his daughter otherwise_, _she tightened her ponytail distractedly_. "_You know_,_ I_'_m just gonna go for a walk_."_ She grabbed her cardigan_. "_I_'_ll see you in a while_."

_Jackson knew not to stop her so Claire stepped away from the door and watched her leave down the opposite hall_,_ somehow not noticing her_.

_She watched Bryn vanish before returning to the door and looking to see Jackson holding a pipe and inhaling weird smoke_. _She thought it was herbal at the time_. _Jackson always warned Bryn and Harper about drugs_.

_Though she wanted to say something she only returned to Harper_,_ keeping secrets for all._

_The Blackwells were much more troubled than she expected._

Claire was glad Javier didn't bother her while she reminisced. She knew they weren't stable.

When she moved to see if he was still beside her, she saw him already heading for St. Jude's, where Vena stood in the entrance, smirking approvingly.

She continues to watch and when Vena reaches to greet him. He completely brushes her off and went inside.

Claire smiles and threw her half-finished latte into the trash before she switches on her heel and struts back to Constance.

Being Claire Larson has never been better.

**X**

Floria walks through Williamsburg after her lunch of veggie lo mein and herbal cigarettes. She had to get to Constance before she'd be counted late and assigned detention. Her red curls swirl into her eyes as she screams for a cab, raising her arm to hail one but having no luck.

She swerves across the street through the crowd of New Yorkers, searching for a cab or at least a bus to return her back to Constance while she gazes into a shop window with mannequins dressed in nude ribbons causing her to crash into a man. She drops her bag and a textbook onto his feet and is already apologizing.

Grimacing, she knelt for her books. The man did the same, gathering her books quicker before handing them to her gentlemanly. She felt her cheeks burn when she looks up at him. She never felt like this but just by seeing his face it was as if her heart melted.

The man was handsome with a clean-shaved face. His jaw chiseled like the marble statues in the Guggenheim, dark hair that was a good length, and a dimpled smile he gave her when she took back her books. "You're quite the klutz." he told her, holding a hand out to help her. He notices her school skirt and raises a brow. "And apparently, go to Constance. Who would've thought?"

Floria was surprised a man she barely knew was conversating with her but since he was attractive and polite she'd settle. An extra bonus was how good he looked in a blazer and fedora. Young like he just graduated from Columbia. "Yeah, I go to Constance even though it sucks ass." she admits, frowning at the remembrance of The Heartbreakers disbanding and no longer getting a chance to hang with Bryn, Hayden, and Angelina without argument. "Do you go to St. Jude's? You look sorta familiar."

The man smirks, lifts his broad shoulders. "I guess you could say that," he replies, adding mystery to his persona before holding a hand out. "Hunter Harmon, a pleasure. Who might you be?"

Floria shook his hand before retracting it into the pocket of her peacoat. "Floria." she chimes. "Just Floria."

Hunter smiles gently. "Cute." He looks into the street. "Floria … it's a beautiful name." She feels the color creep back to her cheeks and actually smirks when she looks at him again. His looks could have use for something else.

"Um, hey, Hunter." she calls before leaving. "You're really good-looking and all but I was wondering if I could ask you for a favor."

Hunter forces a mock-flirtatious smile and extends an arm before pressing his palm to his chest. "For you, dear, _anything_."

Floria rolls her eyes. He's making this a lot more dramatic than it needs to be. "Hail me a cab, _dear_."

He chuckles before waving for a cab. To her surprise, three came to him while Floria stares in awe. He smiles proudly and looks her over. "You couldn't do that yourself?"

She went for the backdoor and threw her books in the seat. "Well, sorry for not being as good-looking. Not everyone's perfect."

She seats herself and Hunter approaches before she can shut the door and deepens her blush. "Well, Floria, I think you're just as." And without giving her a chance for more, he steps back and slams the door as she stutters out the route to Constance.

Who knew someone would be able to capture _F's _heart so fast?

Floria leans back while the vehicle sped the streets. She smiles to herself at the first compliment she had received in a while. It warmed her heart into an inferno.

And she's still so ecstatic she doesn't even care when she receives double detention and an earful from her teacher.

**X**

"Dean." Claire greets as she approaches him, seats herself beside him while he reads a dog-eared book of poetry. "It's nice to see you. I haven't seen you since my … unfortunate social event over the weekend." She looks around, making sure Winnie isn't in sight before glancing back.

"It wasn't _that _unfortunate." he shares, flipping a page. "It was actually fun compared to your usual with all the drama that went on. The unexpected guests and the mess left afterward." He skips a few pages until he reaches a chapter labeled: _William Bradford_.

Claire smiles gratefully. At least someone appreciated the work she'd put into trying to make that ball the best day of those ungrateful Upper East Siders lives. "I really put a lot of work, too." Dean chuckles and shakes his head in mock disapproval before shutting his book for her eyes. He never noticed how many emotions spun through them. "Nobody really seemed to care."

To Claire's surprise, he gave her another smile. "Well, even if no one else does, I do." He withdraws his book into his bag and looks toward a small intersection of shops and felt Claire's sympathetic gaze but didn't meet it. "You shouldn't depend on other opinions all the time, they don't necessarily matter."

"I … guess you're right," she says after a pause. "You know, you give good advice."

"Thanks," He looks afar and sees Winnie approaching with a smile for Claire. She didn't need that stupid religious girl's forgiveness and most certainly didn't want to humiliate herself in front of Dean again by getting her minions to do something like throw her in a fountain or chuck a latte at her back.

Before Claire could leave, Winnie was already in arm's reach as she stood before the two. "Dean, Claire." she sang their names like they were part of a chorus. "Did you both hear? Though I hate to gossip, Bryn and Harper's father passed away."

Dean nods. "Yeah, we've heard. Well, I have. Have you, Claire?"

Claire nods and turns to glare. "Yes, I have," she assures and raises a sultry brow. "and it's not nice to gossip about the dead, _sweetie_."

Winnie's hopeful smile suddenly vanishes in a scowl. "I wasn't gossiping." she claims. "simply mentioning a rumor."

Dean sighs while Claire shrugs. "Gossiping. Jesus wouldn't like that."

Winnie arches both brows and stares down Claire. "You gossip, too."

Claire bound to her feet and for a moment Dean thought she would hit her but she simply dusts off her skirt. "You forget this -" Her voice trails as her eyes darken with brute humor. "I'm Jewish. I have nothing to worry about." Claire almost felt bad for forcing embarrassment on herself as she went to face Dean. "I'll see you later?"

She wasn't surprised when Dean didn't give her an answer so she went off.

She had _nothing _to worry about.

**X**

It was lunchtime. The sky an unusual cloudless blue, the backdrop of a near-impeccable cinema production. Not many were in the cafetrias today because of the Blackwell rumors. Constance girls and St. Jude boys gossiped in their courtyards, smoking cigarettes and eating yogurts. They were all curious to see the Blackwells and prove their rumors true of their father killing himself because his kids lost their V-cards on the same night.

Javier heads out of St. Jude's. A cigarette in his mouth and usual suave sheen on his face.

No one really seemed to be looking out for him today and he couldn't help but feel a tad annoyed because usually he was fawned over for just his shirt and tie. No Bryn or Harper in sight and for once he was surprised because usually Bryn would be with the guys and Harper with the girls.

And he hadn't seen Bryn since the night of her birthday when she was in his suite, drinking scotch and droning about a previous Green Day concert. Saying how high teenagers were convinced that she was Billie Joe's twin. It was pretty entertaining, actually.

But not even Harper was around and he couldn't even ask him for Bryn's whereabouts. Not that he cared. He was just curious like the rest of them.

He looks around and sees Bryn's friends and a few other punks sitting on a courtyard table. They murmur and share cigarettes, passing lighters and Camels around like a drug deal.

He looks between the Constance courtyard and the group before approaching them without second thought, never feeling so awkward in his life when all dark eyes and pierced mouths poised at him.

"Uh, hey," he greets, looking to the blonde with a baseball cap and black eye. The blonde lifts his cap and lowers his cigarette, blinking and staring. "have you maybe seen Bryn?"

"No, he hasn't." a dark-haired punk spits. "Have you not seen his eye? I doubt he could see anything."

"Matt." the blonde sneers. "He was _just _asking."

Matt looks unrelenting. Careless. "_Just _asking to have sex with her. If you hadn't realized what happened on her birthday." He rolls dull green stone eyes and leans between matching girls in beaten jackets. "Get out of here, pretty boy. We haven't seen them if you hadn't noticed."

The blonde turns back to him, giving him the benefit of the doubt. His clean eye is wide. "I haven't seen Bryn. I think she might have left early and I'm unsure about Harper."

"Do you think they'll be okay?" He sees a girl murmur to Matt, his eyes flash to her and they're suddenly soft in emotion. "They can't just _die_."

"They won't." he assures, mostly himself. "I know them to a point that they won't kill themselves for this."

The blonde rolls his eyes. "Hope so."

Simultaneous gasps from both school ends erupt and a slamming of a heavy door. All eyes trace a student talking on his phone in hasty Italian. His face is unshaven and overshadowed in stubble. His tie is undone and his blazer is tucked under one arm, his face is entirely gaunt and he looks as if he hasn't slept in weeks. The gossip and rumors are strong but he doesn't seem to notice as he continues reeling foreign words like bullets.

"Harper," Javier calls, loud enough to hear. But he doesn't break stride or language. "Harper!"

"Pretty boy, hey!" Matt bites, grabbing Javier's arm as he leans to go after the Blackwell. "Leave him _alone_."

"But –"

"His father _died_." he repeats with not a pinch of sympathy. "His sister might be missing and he's trying to prepare a funeral alone. They might lose their mansion," His eyes narrow. "they just might have to return to their home and you're worried about not getting the next lay from Bryn? Grow up, honestly."

"It's not about that –"

"Oh, sure, it's not." He scoffs, his words sting like razor cuts. "Then if you want to do what's right. Leave them alone and leave _us _alone. We're friends not keepers."

**X**

It was a three-way conversation meant to be business and somewhat friendly. But both twins hated it.

Harper in the family car. Bryn in the mansion basement.

He had meek lunch in his lap; apple halves and a wheat bagel. He didn't have an appetite and was only eating in leisure. Bryn was sorting and organizing Heart and Van Halen music, a Bluetooth in her ear as she orders the cases alphabetically. _Balance_, _Diver Down_, _Fair Warning_ … _Bad Animals_, _Bebe le Strange_, _Brigade_ …

In both spaces they had never felt so claustrophobic.

On the other end was a voice of familiarity. Becoming almost foreign in their heads. Black ice. Colored smoke.

"I apologize but I'm unable to make it for your father's funeral. I have quite a lot going on at my end."

Bryn's voice pipes in, dark and venomous. "Oh, what's new?"

Harper forces himself to take a bite of his bagel and talks through a mouthful. "Bryn, _stop_." He swallows the hefty bite and comes close to choking but straightens himself before. "Mom, is it alright if I use some of the Blackwell fund in the safe in Dad's room? I know it's rude –"

"No need to ask, Harper." she cuts in. "I know you won't abuse it. I trust you."

The laugh from Bryn's line is brutal, like the slash of a blade across an unblemished throat. "Why do I exactly need to be in this conversation again? I'm busy myself."

"Because it in involves your father's fortune and your whereabouts, Brynna." their mother answers. "Now, it'd be nice if you –" Bryn's end dies. "Oh, lovely."

"I'm sorry for her," Harper apologizes, nibbling on an apple slice. "I can't really do much about her state of mind."

"I would've sent her to reform school if I had my way," He imagines his mother shaking his head and the apple nearly lodges into his windpipe at the thought of his sister in a terrible boot camp with dirty clothes and bruises on her face. "anyway, I'll do what I can, Harper. I have to cut this conversation short. Trouble booking a show as always. I'll talk to you soon."

He knew it. The usual excuse involved her job and he nods, feels his eyes sting. "Cool. Yeah, talk to you later." He hangs up and doesn't want to wait for a response. Her job was always more important than them. He slides down the window and throws his paper plate out into the street.

Shifting in his seat and murmuring prayer in his hands.

_Lord_,_ please allow me the clarity to live on_.

He screams into his palms and the sound is muffled but not from his heart.

**X**

Javier checks his watch. Orange leaves fall from branches, the trees barer than skeletons – November. The iron fence outside the cemetery is like steel in his back as he leans against it. Mourners in black Dior enter the churchyard as he stands outside, smoking cigarettes. He didn't know many of them as they were much older and maybe even wealthier considering the diamonds they wore on their hands and throats. His parents couldn't make it. They had their own problems going on even though they weren't as important.

He exhales smoke, looks around for the Blackwells. Bryn and Harper hadn't arrived which surprised him. They'd probably arrive late because they had such respect for their father and would never do anything to shame his name. He saw his parents' business partners sidle in, yakking about the Foster oil tycoon in hushed tones.

"Javier?"

The voice was sweet like bells. He wasn't surprised to hear it when he turns to find soft green eyes. He smiles and lowers his cigarette. "Tinsley." he drawls, tossing the bud as she manages a smile. Her dress was a flattering black, the sleeves draped, a sapphire at her throat, and her blonde strands in a low bun. "I'm not surprised to find you on these steps."

Not wanting to add a comment like this, she says deftly. "I'm actually more surprised to see you here." she quips, smoothing flyaways at her nape. "What _are_ you doing here?"

He wasn't surprised at her question and knew when she saw him smirk. "I came to pay my respects to the Blackwells. Aren't you doing the same?"

The comment quiets Tinsley as she looks below to where many crowded around an open casket. A swarm of socialites arrive in respective silence. He was sure he saw the Hiltons. "I actually wanted to see how the other two were holding off."

This amused her. "You care for Harper and Bryn?"

"You would do the same," he answers vainly. "I care for them the same as you."

"I'm surprised to hear you say that, Javier," she murmurs. "You don't seem like the type to admit it."

He smiles as he lights another cigarette. "Claire told me the same thing earlier."

They both turn at hearing noise. The reverend was initiating a speech for the deceased. "It's beginning."

Tinsley frowns as she peers over her shoulder. Javier straightens his black tie and throws his cigarette. "No living Blackwell in sight."

She turns to Javier. "You don't think they skipped out, right?"

Javier shakes his head. "I'm sure she'll show up." He heads in, leaving behind Tinsley as he disappears into the crowd of grievers. She didn't see many she knew. Matt and Steven had been booked in a few shows last minute, Dean was busy, and Vena just wasn't invited which had to be the best thing since Claire beating her.

But she couldn't help but blink. "_She_'_ll_?"

**X**

Harper stands in the vanity mirror of Bryn's room as he tugs his black tie, fiddling with a button on his shirt. He didn't bother to have his shirt pressed, seeing as he hadn't had time with all the drama. He slicks his fingers through his uncombed hair and turns to Bryn, where she was reclined away from reality. He knew she wasn't sleeping. "Bryn, come on," he cries, approaching and leaning on her bed to shake her. "It's Dad's funeral."

She whips around, eyes bloodshot in Ray Ban eyeglasses. The ones she always needed to wear in school but chose not to because of her contacts. The old frames slid down her nose. "Harper," she mutters. "I don't wanna …"

He felt for her. Just seeing the hurt in her eyes made him know she wasn't lying. As much as he didn't want to go himself they had to do this for Dad's sake. "Bryn," He sighs, grabbing her elbow and forcing her up. "I don't wanna go either but let's do this for Dad. He's been through our family drama and if he could, we could be there for him just once. Please?"

She nods and props her feet on the floor littered in CD cases and articles of leather. "Okay …" she says, adding a forced smile. "can I go in this?" She directs to her outfit: a zip hoodie with an obscene rock tee, jeans with rips in the thighs, and filthy Converse.

He didn't necessarily approve of her attire but didn't need any more riffs. "Sure," he replies sullenly, patting her shoulder before pulling her under his arm. "Don't worry, okay?"

She bobs her head and snatches a sweaty beer off her vanity, swishing around the inside. Harper didn't notice or maybe not care as they exited and dragged themselves down the stairs. She felt like she'd lose her footing any moment so was lucky for the arm Harper had over her.

Once he took his house keys, they went outside and looked ahead to see right across the street from their house was a funeral packed with people alike. The only cemetery available in this time of month.

Bryn raises her hood over her knots. "I can't believe we live right across from a cemetery. How creepy is that?"

**X**

Claire looks to Jackson in an impeccable navy suit. Masses of yellow roses surround his open casket. The queen sports a white blouse with ribbons in the collar, her favorite black skirt. Snaps her ankle boots in the dewed grass. Her minions whisper rumors and blather alike.

"Where are the Blackwell twins?"

"I think they're not coming. Bryn is skipping out to go to a Kings of Leon concert."

"Typical. And Harper's doing drugs with her band, right?"

"Of course!"

It took all Claire's might to not tell the girls to shove their lies up theirs.

"Look!" one of them cries, pointing ahead as Javier steps toward the casket, dropping a rose. He murmurs inaudibly before stepping back into the curious crowd. "Wow, I still can't believe he's here."

Claire nods to herself. "Me either." Wishing for Dean since he hadn't had a chance to be invited.

"What do you think he said?"

"I think he probably told him his daughter's a conniving bitch."

"No, no! I think her dad knew that. _I_ think he said that his son is secretly doing lude!"

Claire scoffs at their accusations as she steps forward, settling a rose into the bed of flowers. He looked peaceful yet regret inked his face, saddened that he skipped out on the world so easily. Claire could only murmur a prayer before returning to her group.

"O-M-G! They're here!"

She saw Javier and Tinsley both stare back. Claire also turned, wondering why they all looked so confused.

From afar, Bryn and Harper approached as Bryn shook off the arm Harper had on her before clutching the bottle in a quivering fist. She wove into the crowd up to where Javier and Tinsley stood as she bit her lower lip, free of all color and gloss.

She said nothing as she threw her head back and drank.

"What is she drinking?" another murmurs.

"Beer, dumbass."

"Oh, Brynna's far too young."

"Hopefully, alcoholism doesn't run _too_ deep in the family."

Javier turns to Bryn at seeing her expression. As if struck by lightning, her pallid face had no emotion and her complexion was dull. She looked almost different without her usual rock makeup – silver eyeliner, gunmetal eyeshadow, burgundy lipstick. It was as if seeing her in a carnival mirror.

He had to be a little considerate. "Bryn, I'm sorry."

She says nothing, her face doesn't contort as she takes another swig and coughs into the bottle.

His brows furrow. "You're not drunk, are you?"

Her gaze is finally in his, unintentionally. Eyes blank of spark. "No, I'm _not_."

Harper appears beside Tinsley, not even greeting her when he tucks his hands into his pockets, watching a colleague speak on about his favorite memories and deeds with Jackson. Circles thick under his eyes.

Tinsley turns to him with sad eyes at seeing his and Bryn's distraught faces. "I'm sorry,"

He didn't look at her and she wasn't surprised. Bryn sighs, placing her bottle on the grass before lifting her shirt to expose a glimpse of stomach and the outline of a scar that reached from her hipbone and up her ribcage, a simple rose tucked in her belt as she slid it out and trudged in. With trembling fingers, she dropped it, staring down his face with wide eyes.

He was dead.

He'd never wake up and never watch her graduate from high school, become a household name, get married –

_He was gone_.

Her body ached and her soul scorched. It might as well have been ripped from her.

Bryn shakes her head as tears came to her vision. She felt countless eyes on her as she looks over to Harper, mumbling only what he managed to catch.

"I can't do this …"

She needed to leave. She had to run.

So she did. The hood fell off her hair as she ran down the block and out of view. Harper groans and yanks on his hair before snatching the bottle off the grass. His knuckles were white and outstretched with veins.

"Shit!" he swore and Tinsley jumped to hear him. And though he didn't go after Bryn, he disappeared just as fast and bolted down the street and up the path to his house, looking on the verge of collapse.

Claire watched them break as she searches for Javier and Tinsley.

They were both gone after them. Just as fast as the two had run.

It had finally happened but it was good to know they still had people to care for them.

**X**

Javier looks down the streets, finding her not in the crowd as he searches around. Looking everywhere before he finally stops mid-step to see Bryn knelt with her head in her palms outside a church gate. He crouches beside her and holds her shoulder causing her to jump and stare.

Tears sluice her cheeks as she tries to wipe them furiously. "J-Javier?" she chokes, trying to dry the tears. She sounded so helpless and scared like a lost child. "W-What're you doing here?"

"Why are you crying?" he asks, instantly wanting to take it back. But she only sniffles and brushes away another waterfall of fresh tears.

"Because I don't know what to do." she sobs and shakes her head while Javier stares her down worriedly, looking like the perfectly concerned boyfriend. "You don't know what it feels like to lose someone. It _burns_."

Javier continues to stare, leaning over to kiss her when another tear stings her face but she evades him. Both movements were on impulse. "Don't cry, okay? I may not know what it's like to lose someone but if I were to lose you, I'm pretty sure I'd be in your situation."

"Please," she coughs and her bitterness has somewhat returned through tears. "you barely even _know _me!"

"You can never make a conflict easy, can you?"

"Well, sorry for not planning my dad's death!"

"God, can you just relax?" he demands and forces his hand under her chin as he brings her into his eyes. "People die, people move on. Get over it. Are you just going to spend all this time sobbing and mourning?"

"I can and I will." She didn't bother to shove away the continuing tears as if to prove a point. "Why don't we trade places and let's see what you –"

She didn't continue.

His mouth was on hers before she could.

**X**

Tinsley enters the Blackwell Mansion, feeling like an intruder when she enters with the keys in hand, which were left in the door. She locks the door and looks around for Harper. Was he okay? He had to be. Nothing would happen to him and they both knew he'd stay alive for Bryn.

"Harper?" she calls up to hear disturbing noises. She winces and hurries up to what she assumes is his room and fought the urge to cry when she saw his state.

He was on one knee and already sobbing into the hand that held his face. Glass under his shoes and alcohol trailed the wall in an amber stain. Tinsley rushes to him, feeling terrible to finally see him breaking. How helpless he looked in his current condition as he didn't even look up to see her, slamming his palm onto the glass. A shard of split wood splintered in the carpet, a carved stick of some sort.

"Harper," she whispers, reaching for him as he sobs. Her own eyes fill with tears. His head falls into her lap as he never pacifies for breath. Her manicured nails twine through his hair as she attempts to calm him. "Please, it'll be okay."

"I … I can't believe he's really gone!" he chokes as he shakes his hand, which was discoloring and ballooning from the injury inflicted from the glass. "I couldn't do anything! I don't have _anyone _anymore!"

Tinsley shakes her head and watches him. "Don't say that," she vows, cradling his bruised hand firmly. His tears began slowing as he wipes his face with a free hand, trembling in her arms. "you'll always have me, no matter what you go through. I'll always be here."

His sobbing weakens as he clenches bloodied knuckles. His sniveling fades within the next minutes before he slides from her, face slick with tears, hair mussed, and lower lip stinging from the pressure he had on it.

It was so nice to see him calming and reaching a stage of relaxation. _Finally_.

"Please don't leave."

Pushing all rumors, comments, and lies aside, she smiles and says –

"I won't ever."

**X**

**This has been the saddest yet sweetest chapter I've written in a while. My take on character breakdowns isn't very good but I put as much emotion as I could. I really hope you all like this though.**

**In about a chapter or two the depressing saga should be done and we'll be back at a brighter storyline.**

**And for anyone I haven't replied to in PMing standards, I apologize but I've been looking through this chapter nearly all day and have been watching Sex and the City 2. **

**Another update should be soon! **


	9. Chapter 9

Harsh daylight peeks through the curtains and against Bryn's eyelids as she's awoken, feeling at her heart with a quivering palm. She looks around, realizing her place in Javier's arms. It felt relaxing, chilling. The way he held her while he slept seemed to complete the deal but something in the pit of her chest burned and ached.

Knowing she wasn't good enough for him bit her insides. Seeing his wealth and parents, who were married unlike her own and practically catered to his every need. They trusted him enough to not even have to live with him. Her parents had never trusted her that much. Plus, he was naturally handsome without needing to comb his hair or fix his clothes up. Something neither she nor Harper, have ever been able to do.

She startles into a sitting position, sneaking out of his grip before bringing her feet to the carpet. Her prescription Ray Bans and Ozzfest hoodie were missing. She watches him slumber to somehow comfort her thoughts. Not tossing or snoring like she often saw Harper. His dress shirt creased, the top buttons undone and his hair messier than usual.

This night wasn't supposed to happen. She wanted to forget how she broke down after he brought her to his suite. She was out of his arms when she vomited her breakfast (two Heinekens, leftover Margherita pizza), and slammed her fists into the marble bathroom tiles until her knuckles bruised. He gave her a cigarette and lit it for her like he did when she met him on the Constance steps. She didn't hesitate to lean into him as he sunk his face in her neck, kissed her throat like she mattered.

And now she was here.

Remembering everything made her quicken her pace. She slid on her dirty Converse and threw on her hoodie, frantically searching for her glasses through the cigarettes and cologne bottles on his dresser. Without having the patience, she eventually left without them, stumbling into the main room.

Diamond accents ornament the black piano beside the window. There were no blemishes or gaps ingrained in the wooden kitchen cabinets and the crystal dinner table looked worth millions. It was insane at how wealthy some could be.

She had more to do.

She was still Bryn Blackwell and had tons to fulfill now that her father was gone. Harper and she were the successors to their father's fortune – the fortune Jackson would rather hand to his children before divorcée, Luciana.

For lack of _much_ better word, Jackson considered Luciana a harlot.

She remembers hearing one of their spats before their divorce was finalized. She was hiding in the gap of the hallways, nervously watching them yell the fiercest Italian they knew.

'_Luciana_,_ how dare you do that to my children_?_ I knew you were cruel but never thought you_'_d do such _…_ monstrosities_!'

'_You_'_re funny_,_ Jack_,_ but I am not amused_._ I did what was right and if you were in my shoes you would_'_ve done the same_._ You're the one who carelessly left me for that floozy when I was busy with our children_!'

'_I did no such thing_.'

'_You_'_re a very convincing liar but my mind is set_._ I never did for that matter because I wouldn_'_t be surprised if I found out you cheated on me while I was pregnant_._ The thought of my daughter inheriting your foolishness disgusts me_.'

'_I should slap you across the face for saying such about my child_._ From the day we were married to the day I die_,_ I can say I_'_ve never _…_ lied or cheated on you with a cheap whore_.'

'_I doubt the whore was cheap_.'

'_Hush_, _I_'_m not finished_._ I want you out of my home_._ The sight of you is beginning to sicken me_.'

'_Fine_,_ but I'm taking Harper_._ You may have your oh_-_so_-_dear daughter_.'

'_I_'_d gladly accept her with open arms and don_'_t talk about my children like they_'_re playthings_._ I can assure you Harper will not want to leave with you_.'

'_And why is that_?'

'_Because I know he cannot be separated from his sister_._ They are twins and have been together through everything and if I take Bryn from her brother I_'_m sure she'll no longer be well_.'

'_Ugh_,_ you create _…_ conflicts with everything_!_ What do you propose_?'

'_Nothing comes to mind but I only want what's best_.'

'_You've always been too thoughtful_,_ Jackson_._ Where are you going after this ends_?'

'_I_'_ll always be with my children as much as I can but work steals most of my time_._ It was nice knowing you_,_ Luciana_._ Truly it was_.'

He left the room, his daughter thankful to not being seen, leaving them. He definitely wasn't one to beat around the bush as he humbly gave his thanks to her mother's family before grabbing the first flight out into the States and not hesitating to buy the mansion in Manhattan before returning to his buildings in Switzerland.

That's all it felt like. Like he'd get on a plane and never come back. He'd never see her onstage at Rodney's or see her smash a guitar in a music video like Joan did in 'Crimson and Clover.'

It pierced like daggers through her racing heart.

She grabs her Blackberry and flips it open to check for any missed calls or messages.

Nothing.

_Just great._

She needed something, needed drugs.

The simple something that would blow away her troubles, the dazing smoke that would double the intensity of her performances. And when Scott would insult her, she'd feel nothing and only laugh at his attempts at causing her stress. Marcus would hand her another joint and she'd feel like she was floating on a drug-infused cloud.

_Memories_.

She walks to the window and gazes out, watching rain-full clouds swim through the sky – a storm was likely brewing.

But who even cared?

She looks back to Javier's bedroom, half-expecting him to appear. Seeing she left him so effortlessly but couldn't and _wouldn_'_t _wait for him. No one ever did for her.

Taking a final glance toward his bedroom door, she dashes for the door. Not bothering to shut it behind her. She only continued her misery-drunk stride – bolting past uniformed maids, room service attendants, confused elders and children with colorful balloons. She didn't check back, she couldn't. Not after everything.

There were only two things on her mind.

Drugs and rock n' roll.

The sex was getting old, anyway.

**X**

Harper tries to blink himself awake at hearing the startling beep of his alarm clock. He stares over the window and gave himself unwanted fear when remembering Bryn had nearly fallen out of it days ago. He was glad he saved her before something unfortunate happened but his fears were purified when his father had shown up.

Barely within a day, he was discovered dead in his office. His heart breaking at his sister – his _twin_'_s _heart shatter right before his eyes, an image fit for a crime scene splattered with blood and switchblades hidden behind alleyway dumpsters.

He sure could use a sandwich.

Aside from that, where were Bryn and Tinsley? He clearly remembers sobbing in Tinsley's arms from his caged anxiety causing his meltdown while she ran careful fingers through his hair. He'd said something he can't quite remember and fell asleep locked in her embrace.

It's been awhile since he's felt that good around a girl. But he _loved _Tinsley since he'd been feuding with himself whether to ask her out properly. They had a great time at Claire's masquerade party, waltzing to a song after his love confession and toasting to his birthday with champagne.

Harper rose from bed and smacks his alarm clock off. He should check if Bryn was around. The last time he'd seen her was at the funeral, staring at their father's body in horror –

_Oh_, _hell_.

He shakes his hair and notices the time: _10 AM_. Obviously, he couldn't go to school now that he'd be nearly three hours late. Plus, he didn't even have a uniform ready or ironed, his bedhead was worse and he hadn't shaved in a week.

He felt like Brad Pitt.

He grabs his school blazer and threw it onto his bed, scratching his scalp before heading out of his room to pursue Bryn's. The door was ajar and he enters to see the same unmade bed and band posters. Nothing was moved. Like she hasn't been home since yesterday.

Which was probably true.

She was probably in school with Tinsley practicing guitar or drinking Heinekens with friends. Maybe even in the school library with Floria, sitting on the couch and reading sex books.

She was okay. He just knew it.

He'd carry on with life because Tinsley and the ones he cared for gave him the reason to. It'd be easy because he knew Bryn thought the same. She'd never kill herself because of this.

Because despite having to deal with their family throughout the years, suicide was the farthest thing from her mind.

They both had people who cared for them. Claire, Tinsley, Floria, Matthew, Steven, even Javier since he cared for Bryn more than he sometimes. Bryn was reckless and maybe that was another reason they were all so protective of her.

The chiming of his phone forces him out of his thoughts and he slumps back to his room, snatching it off his ruined computer table to notice a new gossip blast on the screen.

Why did he subscribe to them again?

With a roll of his eyes, the page was loaded with a morning headline and full-sized images of his sister.

His eyes widen.

Bryn stood outside the deli she often frequented with friends. They all looked wasted seeing the beer cans in their fists and their grins of excitement. Another picture was focused solely on Bryn. He noticed the gleam in her eyes wasn't there.

The blues of her eyes were soaked in anguish.

Another snapshot was below but he couldn't tolerate on seeing more when he dials someone. Praying for an answer as he watches the ticking seconds on his room clock. The person answers on the fifth ring, their voice slurred with sleep. Harper forces a smile and knew it would go unseen but found it was the only thing he could do at the moment.

"Hey," Harper greets. "I think I need your help."

**X**

Tinsley tosses rolled tulle onto her bed while she checks her phone for Harper-calls. Her waves severely pinned into a ponytail as she readies her sewing machine, drying sweat off her forehead before preparing the tiny silver needle.

As she conjoins fabric, she thought of Harper and Bryn. She just managed to calm the wreck Harper was becoming since she was unable to discover Bryn's whereabouts. She could've gone anywhere and knowing Bryn, she might've even took a flight to London to hide from wandering eyes, change her name, and eat pork pie for the remainder of her life.

But she saw Javier head after Bryn, which diluted her worry. Even though Javier could be a womanizer, he still had a heart for those in need – especially Bryn, who he'd taken a liking to. It takes time for someone to catch his eye and with his sights set on Bryn, he won't give until he has her. Harper also realized this and if Javier does anything to even near her heart, Javier would end up buried alive.

Don't we all want a brother like that?

Though Bryn and Javier both denied their secret relation, Matt said he caught them on the Constance steps doing something not-so-sweet.

Of course, they already knew of the rumors but denied them before they even had chance to spread.

Let's quote the prized words of the great Bryn and Javier, shall we?

'_Me _…_ like Javier_?_ You gotta be kidding_._ He_'_s hot but _…_ hell better freeze over for me to screw that bastard_.'

'_Bryn Blackwell_?_ I take no interest in her_._ She_'_s nothing but attractive_._ I_'_d much rather marry a dancer in a horrid Williamsburg bar before putting a ring on her finger_.'

Alas, everyone seems to have that disguised spark in their romance and Javier and Bryn seem to have the rockiest romance I've seen in a while.

Tinsley grabs her phone off the receiver and dials Harper. She wanted to make sure he was alright but once he'd fallen asleep, she went home to cease her parents' worry. Thankfully, his staff waited on-hand but she still wished she didn't have to leave.

She wanted to stay with him. Wanted to care for him so he'd never feel alone again, wanted to assure him that she'd always be there. She should've just rejected the calls from her parents' and stayed with Harper for the night.

It was too late now. She could reunite with him later when he'd be well-rested and Bryn would be herself by lighting five cigarettes in rapid succession and wearing her signature leather like a modern-day Belinda Carlisle.

After a few lasting rings, she is sent to voicemail. She sighs and slams the phone in its cradle.

_Ring_-_ring_!_ Ring_-_ring_!

Tinsley shut off her sewing machine and gazes at her home phone. Blinks and reaches over a roll of papery fabric to reach it. "Um, hello?"

_You sound awfully surprised_.

Not even a proper hello. She already knew the voice.

Tinsley climbs over the gigantic fabrics before twisting the cord in her lap. "I am, actually." she admits with a fluidity to her tone that she only uses on him. "You don't really call me as much as you used to, Javier."

There was a pause on his line and the weakest sigh beside a rustle of clothing. _That_'_s true_,_ I apologize and will definitely start calling you more_,_ dear Tinsley_. Another pause lingers and noise like a chair scratching hardwood. _Anyway_,_ have you seen Bryn_?

She couldn't help but arch an eyebrow as her mouth twists into a ghostly smile. "Since when are you asking about Bryn?" she teases. "Are you worried about her?"

It didn't take long for him to answer. _No_. She could practically see his frown. _Harper called me earlier asking about her_,_ I haven_'_t seen her since the funeral_. _He seemed quite stressed_._ I think you should call him to cool him off before he catches a heart attack over his missing sister_.

She knew he attempted to make this dark-humored but she didn't find it funny in any sense of the world. "Fine, thanks," She crashes her phone on the receiver, not waiting for more.

Seconds later, she unplugs her sewing machine before ripping her plastic Burberry coat off the rack. Not even bothering to change out of her dark jeans and button-down shirt.

She knew Harper was fine. She saved him before he had a chance to do something extreme.

But ... questions still swam in her thoughts.

The main that caused most worry was –

What if Bryn wasn't?

**X**

Claire yawns as she stirs her stew, blowing off the steam. Her appetite wasn't the strongest today. Maybe a bottle of San Pellegrino and a pack of Orbit would do her justice.

She sits with Dean in the courtyard, prescription frames on his nose. He studies and flips through a pamphlet. She pushes away the plastic tin before returning the lid with a _click_. Stares at Dean and timidly slides the dish to him. "You know, I never really see you eating," she begins. "you can have this if you like."

Dean smiles and tugs the sleeve of his blazer. "Thanks, Claire, that was awfully nice of you." he told her, placing his notes aside. "You didn't have to. Especially since it smells so good."

Claire smiles, the truest smile she hasn't had in a long time. It almost felt good being generous to _the commoner_, as her mother would say. She didn't look at him to be that. If so, he was probably the best-dressed compared to the ones she sees in sloppy ties and ruined shirts. Dean was much more proper, classy.

Why couldn't all men be like him?

Harper was probably another one of the only sane boys in school, having the purest heart and strongest arms. Not to mention, his hair. Plus, he was co-caption of the lacrosse team –

As a reply to Dean, she shrugs. "It's much too tasteless."

Dean still seems grateful. "I'm sure it'll be fine. I'm not the greatest cook myself. My mother and I order takeout a lot so we're no professionals."

This brought clarity. Her mother was never the best chef either and if it wasn't for their personal cooks or takeout menus, they'd likely starve each night. But from spending many hours in the kitchen when she was younger, she learnt to make sandwiches and the occasional martini or two.

Dean smiles and she returns it with equal politeness. She was stunned that even she had a loving bone in her body. Maybe Dean was the one to see the normality in her.

Maybe one day he'd know about her crush. Maybe wasn't exactly a chance but …

She wouldn't risk anything.

**X**

Bryn sat in her room with a bare white T-shirt and two cans of spray paint. She positions the shirt with a can, shakes a can, and adjusts word molds across the white. Narrows her eyes as the liquid black paints a design across the fabric. Filling the words and leaving overpowering punk auras.

She smirks at her work and slides the molds off, fisting a hand in the neckline and stretching before she pulls the shirt over her naked chest and turns to a mirror. Hair a tangled halo and a hunger for drugs in her eyes. She slid into her pants and snags her camera off her bed.

_Do it_,_ Bryn_._ You_'_re supposed to be a dirty bitch_._ Not an innocent little girl_, her mind told her.

She snatches her aviators and knelt around the paint cans, holding the camera lens to her face before smirking like a drug inducer. Positioning a finger up and sliding on her tinted frames.

She felt like Ann Wilson or Nancy. It felt fantastic. Blowing.

_Click. Click. Snap._

A true rocker, indeed.

**X**

Harper hastily reads a Gossip Bee blast, anxiety a torture object while he searches for his sister. It was about Floria hanging with Hayden and Angelina as they attempt to write lyrics for their new band, The Heartbreak Ache. They didn't seem very well since he knew Bryn wrote most of their songs.

Since this morning there was no blast on Bryn. The sun was sunk between the clouds, which were grouped together like attack wolves. He was worried and desperate to find her before something horrible happened. She'd commit suicide and what could he possibly do?

"Oh, Harper," A girl chokes from the distance and Harper stops himself from kicking the cobblestones outside his mansion, nearly tripping on them. He looks and sees Tinsley, her eyes panicked and wide. "Are you okay?"

He felt laughter creep up on him but fought it back. "I've been better." he advises, looking for hope. "I'm worried about Bryn. I haven't seen her all day. No one I know has seen her all day. And she's not even picking up her damn phone."

She shakes her head. "Would you like me to help you search? I may be of some help."

Harper smiles. "I'd like that."

He would _really _like that if you catch my drift.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to be of assistance as well."

Harper turns and gapes while Tinsley laughs over Harper before she meets the eyes behind her.

She answers and feels her smile.

"Of course, Javier."

**X**

"One, two … one, two, three –"

"Cut, you dog!"

Bryn dressed in her custom tee and leather pants, throws her microphone down. The stench of cigarettes and booze filthy in the air, torn music sheets scattered under Jack Daniels bottles while Landon slid his headphones down his neck.

Another spat was coming and they all needed to keep it together but with Scott and Bryn in the same room, they hadn't had the tolerance for one another. Not even threats worked, she wasn't in the mood and wouldn't be afraid to carry out her own threats.

"What, Scott? Seriously, man. _What_?" Bryn demands as she snags a Jack Daniels, swigging it rudely before she shoves the bottle into Adam. "We gotta record these damn songs." Scott smirks, amused at the band's demise but satisfied not with a paycheck but an endless supply of booze.

"You are not in key." he stats and didn't associate his words with venom. "Fix your voice or do whatever dogs do. Vocal exercises, panting, useless shit that I don't hafta know."

Marcus raps his drumstick around a drum and turns to Scott tiredly. "Um, Scott, she always sings that way."

Scott bit the tobacco in his teeth. His teeth were ugly and yellow and broken. She considered paying for his dental treatments if she no longer had to look at them. "Well, that's too bad. She has to sing different. Her voice is too weak. It needs to be like Alice Cooper or Kurt Cobain. Growl, moan, cry! Just make your damn voice _louder_."

Bryn yawns. "I'm tired," she mumbles, straightening her shirt. Scott didn't look pleased. "that's the only reason my voice is bad today."

Scott shakes his head and chuckles idiotically. "That's too bad. It's either your voice gets louder or you can go flip burgers in Burger King with a few better-looking girls."

Marcus sighs and stood from behind his drums. "We're a band, Scott. You can't always expect us to lose our voices singing."

This brought chuckles when Scott turns around to him with narrow eyes. "I don't care if you need ya your fucking tonsils ripped out! Sing _louder_!"

Adam turns to Bryn to see her yank the mike stand toward her face while he tunes his bass. She was exhausted and though he cared and didn't want her to collapse, he didn't want to lose his job either.

And suddenly –

Bryn kicks the stand and gets into Scott's face with the ferocity of a tiger. She wished she were taller. "I don't give a fuck! My dad died yesterday! Give me a break, you bastard! Why don't you get a real job? I have money. I don't need this. I don't need _any of you_."

Scott cocks an eyebrow. "Then go, hotshot. We ain't begging for you to stay."

She shakes her head. "Apparently so."

They all stare at her expectantly and she felt their burning gazes when out the door and into the thundering rain and towards the rough waters of the dank river.

A nice long dive sounded good right about now.

**X**

_Spotted_:_ Mourning B approaching the water of suicide_,_ no booze in hand but the vengeance of Hetfield_._ I_'_d sell tickets if I knew where_.

Javier chuckles dully and buttons up his coat.

"God, why the hell would she come down here in the first place?" Harper asks while they approach a river behind an old studio, which was said to be haunted with soldiers of ancient wars. Rumor has it, a man in his late-thirties dragged a band around here to record music that will never get sold and practically overdose children.

He's never been so glad for his sister's safety in a nonjudgmental band. Because he knew Bryn would never let one of her bandmates take advantage of her, she seemed to learn her mistake from Pesavento.

Tinsley looks around and notices the sky darkening around her. Indigo laces through the midnight black of night. It looks like a scene two lovers would reminisce about. Just not tonight.

Today, they were looking for the infamous (soon-to-be famous, she claims) rocker, Bryn Blackwell. Surprisingly, you'd think her parents or closest relatives would be in search of this wild one. _Nope_. We've got Tinsley Hastings (beautiful blonde), Harper Blackwell (an awfully attractive brother), and Javier Dominguez (playboy of the UES.)

Celeb sightings. W00T.

Tinsley cuts short, sneakers having sunk in the clumpy dew as Javier turns to her, surprised and deadpanning. "What's wrong?" he asks as Harper also stops and whips back for Tinsley, choppy bangs matting across his forehead from the rain.

She raises her arm and points ahead as a distant silhouette stood over thrashing waves, staring down at them like the safest sanctuaries. All limbs limp as a puppet's useless body.

Tinsley's slick ponytail stuck to her shoulder and her lip wobbles. "Found her."

Harper's eyes widen and he grits his teeth. "Goddamn! My sister's just a magnet for trouble!" he hisses under the booming thunder, wearyingly rushing to the teen as the waves seemed to reach forward with a murderous intensity. "Bryn!"

Bryn shot around, hair and clothes soaked, mascara and lipstick ugly. She staggers in her platform boots, nearly toppling over before she caught herself on unstable heels, smiling over the rocks. Tinsley gasps and covers her mouth, Javier raises eyebrows.

"You can't scream at someone when they're up that high! She could've hurt herself!" she scolds as Harper moans indignantly and approaches Bryn, who stood on an unsafe clump of dirt. She suddenly took on a warm face and attempts a calm smile. "Bryn, honey, get down before you hurt yourself. Please."

One of her eyebrows arches as she attempts to light a cigarette in the rain. She dissatisfies when the flame dries before she can have it. "Who do you think you are? My mother?" she snarls, wringing her hands and the bitten nails on each finger. "What the fuck are you even doing here? I'm not in the mood for the Mother-fucking-Teresa routine."

Harper sighs, doing his best to placate her. "Bryn, we came to get you. You can't keep beating yourself over Dad's death. He was gonna die sooner or –"

Bryn stumbles again as Javier steps forward. She was definitely drunk on something.

"I rather him have died later, Harper." Bryn said, voice leveling sadly. "I didn't want him to _die_! You didn't see him before he did! I saw him with a damn crack pipe! And he was always the man to tell us _not _to do drugs!" She tilts her head for the heavens. "What would happen if I died? Nothing. _Nothing_!"

Harper's eyes became sympathetic. "If you ... if you died Bryn I'm pretty sure _I_'_d _kill myself. You're my twin, we were born together. I lived with you through Pesavento and you with me through the thickness of Mom and Dad's divorce. Don't you _dare _jump."

Bryn took a threatening step back, egging him on while tiny stones slid into the water with invisible splashes. "Do you think anyone would care if Bryn Blackwell died? I'm pretty sure no one would. They'd probably be glad the bitch is finally gone. I know I would ..." She shrugs and holds herself to the weathered skies. "Like Kurt Cobain … they'll get over it."

"Kurt Cobain has a daughter … who's probably not over it." Harper attempts, remembering only from when Bryn taught him about grunge and 'Smells Like Teen Spirit.' They were sweet moments, even though he didn't care at the time.

"But she's alive and most likely over it now. I'm no good, no one will care."

Tinsley steps to Harper, caressing his arm to ease his anxiety. "I would care." she told Bryn. "Harper would. Claire, Floria, Matthew, Steven … Javier." Javier looks up at Bryn to see her raise both of her eyebrows.

Bryn laughs humorlessly and gazes back over Tinsley. "That's what you don't understand all those people have always loved others. None of these people have ever … ever been able to tolerate me. That's the better thing of me just leaving. It sounds pretty fucking good now!"

Harper growls, a guttural noise that sounded from his stomach. "Bryn, get the hell down! Come on, you think you're worrying no one but you're worrying nearly _everyone_!"

She shakes her head and toys with the ruined cuffs of her jacket. "Make me, bro."

Suddenly Javier saunters over, hands in the pockets of his coat. He stretches his arm forward and held out one hand quietly. His eyes reveal nothing as he reaches for her.

"Come on." he demands and his voice is warm but forceful. "You're only causing trouble and worrying your brother. So take my hand before you hurt yourself."

Harper stands back and stares, Tinsley tightens hold on him.

Bryn blinks and reaches for his hand. "A-Am I really worrying Harper?" she asks with unknowing innocence, lips parted in her cloudy eyes.

Javier nods, motioning with his fingers. "Yes, you won't worry him if you get down first."

"But …"

"You can't play that game with me. Take my hand or I'll get you with force."

There was a crack from beneath Bryn's boots as her cold fingers grazed Javier's palm. She startles back and heard another crunch from below her. Javier didn't reach for her any further but she was already reeling back with a face frozen with horror that matched her brother's.

The platform under her finally dissolved and she was falling, according to Tinsley's scream.

Javier's wide eyes met hers and he instinctively leans forward to catch her. Without having enough breath for a scream, Bryn fell into the river.

"Oh, God," Harper shouts, startling from Tinsley and frantically trying to unbutton his jacket but before he even had chance, he saw something that stunned him and his hands grew limp on the soaked fabric of his jacket.

Javier had already torn off his coat and dove in without a moment's hesitation. Ripples jump across the crashing waves and nothing left but the song of the hidden insects.

Harper chuckles to himself. "Who would've ever thought ..."

**X**

The waves dug into her like ice daggers, stabbing her every bone and crevice, jets of dark water attack her ribs while she frantically claws for surface, trying for anything to bring herself up. She would've just overdosed if she knew drowning would've been worse. Painkillers and sleeping pills make magic.

Then she realized something. She didn't _want _to die anymore. She wanted to be rescued or wanted her hair to quit blinding her. She should've hacked it off with rusty kitchen scissors if she knew this was planned.

Drowning hurts, painful like acupuncture. The water scorches her like an open flame and singes through her mouth and into her lungs. She couldn't even make out a last whimper. All she wanted to do was live and she couldn't even do that anymore.

Was that so much to ask?

She felt another wave slam her in the chest and the wind being thumped out of her. The lightning waves scream like calls from Hell and all she wanted was for someone to shout her name. That someone she knew would appear somewhere to show they cared. Maybe one day, maybe for someone else.

Goddammit. She watches too many clichés.

Something caught her sleeve and her arms erupt in shivers while she is dragged to the light. Her back arches and her frame goes fatally rigid, muscles seemingly surrendering on her. Her vision falters and the thickness of black spots blooms across the remains, blanketing it in darkness.

There was darkness, pure darkness. Nothing else.

Hacks and coughs are heard and her head bobs over the surface. She could no longer see but it was as if her hearing had improved in this stint of distress.

An arm swung under her knees and she is taken off the ground. It felt like she was floating. Her head slumps against someone's shoulder, body lifeless and the freezing winds overwhelming her as she shivers, digging her nails into her palms, hands quivering manically.

"God, is she okay? Are _you _okay?" The voice is familiar. Who could it be?

"She's fine, I got her. I think she's just in shock." Another familiar voice, the coolness of her savior. When he speaks, she feels him shift her in his arms and she liked the feeling somewhat but then hears him grunt.

"Oh, no! Your hand –"

" –is fine." he finishes off and she feels his fingers shiver beneath her legs. The hand over her shoulders is cold and strong like the slash of a knife. "Let's just get out of here."

"Fine. But want him to take her? I think you might need stitches." A girl. Some girl. She had a nice voice. Too sweet like a friend. Was she?

"I'll be alright. I'm more worried about her."

"She'll live. I can tell you she's handled worse. But, hey … why'd you do it?"

There was silence, a thickening pile. A desperate whimper escapes her.

"Because it was the right thing to do."

Those words never seemed so calming as Bryn Blackwell drowns into the warm waters of unconsciousness.

**X**

**Another chapter finished, I hope you all liked it, it turned out to be a lucky 6,000 words. I wasn't necessarily planning on that but this chapter actually brought me some clarity and I loved how the ending turned out. **

**So Bryn's alive … or is she? Kidding, she's alive so far after nearly killing herself but still living and her savior I think you all know who that is. ;) **

**Another might take longer though because I'm planning to double the romance and drama! I hope you enjoyed though!**


	10. Chapter 10

"_Come on_, _Daddy_! _Come on_!" _A child yelled in the wintry air_, _voice echoing_. _The morning sky streaked ashen and copper_. _Clusters of snow fell from the heavens in floods_, _clinging to the little girl_'_s wisps as she skips through the powdery white_. "_The snow isn_'_t gonna last and I don_'_t wanna it to melt_!"

_Her father chuckled heartily and nodded_. _His loafers sinking through the snow with each passing step_. "_Yes_, _I know_, _dear heart_." _he assured and brushed extra snowflakes off his coat sleeves while keeping a close eye on the girl_. "_Just be careful now_. _We must wait for your mother and brother_. _We can't go to the show without them_."

_She rolled her eyes and kicked the clean white snowfall_. "_Yeah_,_ yeah _…" _She stares at the frozen pond and whitened grass_. "_Daddy_, _can I go over there_?"

_The child_'_s father looked to the directed area_. _"Sure_, _just not too far_,"_ he cautioned as she nodded before sprinting toward the coated water_. "_I_'_m serious, Bryn_!"

_Bryn twisted back around_, _snowy bits melting in her hair_. "_I knooow_!"

_A tug on his cufflink returned him to his senses and he looked to meet wide_, _lake blue eyes_. _A small boy around his daughter_'_s age_, _smiled at him before releasing his hem_. "_Hey_,_ Dad. Mom wanted to apologize for taking long but she said she_'_ll just meet you after the show_."

_Jackson was surprised at the child_'_s comprehending skills but after a while_, _he beckoned the boy off to his daughter_. "_Thank you_,_ Harp_._ Now_,_ do your father a favor and get your sister_."

_Harper nodded and raced through the snow_, _tiny blue scarf willowing like swallowtails_.

_He watched Harper retrieve his sister_ _and_ _their bickering on the way back on the cycle of ice formation_. _He smiled and thought on about his wife_.

_He was a much better parent than she_'_d ever be_.

**X**

"_Bryn_,_ doll_," _Jackson called to his daughter_. _This had been hours before she_'_d discovered his body and she clearly remembered this conversation_. _He sat in his office_, _holding a book of Catholic verses_, _a dirty ashtray resided by his legs_. "_I_'_d like to speak with you_."

_Bryn stopped_, _mid_-_step_, _ready to pass his office before she halts in his door_. _Dimples scratched his smile and a dent lingered on his brow_. _She entered and leaned on the wall_, _eyes wide in confusion and lips parted_. _He didn_'_t usually call one of them into his study alone_. "_Want me to get Harper_?"

_He shook his head and shifted in his seat_. "_No_, _just shut my door_._ I need to talk to you alone_,_ Kitten_." _Bryn noticed his emphasis on _'_alone_' _and cautiously shut his door with an inaudible click_. _She suddenly wanted Harper_'_s presence but what was the worse Dad could say_?

"_Okay_,_ what_'_d you want to talk about_,_ Dad_?_ I didn_'_t do anything bad_,_ right_?" _she questioned_, _pursuing her lips and slicking fingers into her shag_. _He still couldn't get used to her haircut and pierced ears_. _She certainly took on the rock_-_persona while he_'_s been gone_.

"_Never_." _he advised_, _causing half a relieved smile to spread about her face_. "_Even though the_ _conversation we_'_re about to engage is important nonetheless._"

"_Well_,_ alright._"

_He was glad she wouldn't push him to rush this discussion_. _She wasn_'_t like that especially around him unless forced to spend a day with her mother than her attitude would worsen_.

"_Good_,_ darlin_'." _Jackson said_, _a familiar glint in his eyes as he closed his book_. "_I know you realize at your age that I_'_m quite old and as much as I despise saying I may not be around any longer_." _He stopped speaking when he noticed the terror build in her eyes_. "_Don_'_t fret_,_ I_'_m speaking hypothetically_."

_To his surprise she didn_'_t reply_, _only beckoned for a continuation with weakening horror_. _He ducked to cough into his palm_, _muffling the sound as he met his daughter_'_s eyes once more_. _A wave of concern drowned her when she noticed the smudged red on his fingertips__**.**_ "_A_-_Anyways_, _I wanted to say no matter what happens_,_ I never want you nor Harper to blame yourselves._"

_Bryn laughed humorlessly_. "_Why are you even bringing this up_?"

"_Because I love you both more than words_." _he concluded as if that_'_s the answer to everything_. "_Mind that_,_ I admire you much more than any else and even if something terrible occurs there will always be someone for you both_._ Someone that will stay by your side and show such heart that you may even be able to fall in love with one of the fools of this twisted world_."

_Tears pooled in Bryn_'_s irises as she sunk her lower lip between her teeth_, _nodding as she tried to halt the oncoming saltiness of tears_. "_I think Harper already found his._"

"_I'm proud for him_," _he acknowledged_. "_Just remember either way I_'_ll always love you both._"

_Either way I_'_ll always love you both _...

_I_'_ll always love you both _...

_Love _…

**X**

Glittered eyelids flicker, crimson lips curve up in a smirk, and thin eyebrows arch on a pale forehead. A rustle of a short skirt hikes to expose stocking-clad thighs when the girl kneels beside her guitar case. She keeps it upright to observe magazine clippings on her bedspread. Brushes off the ripped knees and looks towards her curtains.

The turquoise curtains shiver and hide traces of sunrays. Her brows lower and she separates the curtains, squinting when the sun blinds her momentarily before it stains the carpet. Her smirk fades when she observing the pictures she ripped out of _Rolling Stone_: Gene Simmons, Billy Idol, Perry Farrell.

Famous men, great singers, iconic legends. Truly amazing how talented some can be.

She touches a cutout of Billy, gripping a microphone, gaping. It was one of his concert shots.

Would she ever be that wonderful? Singing as extravagant? They all seem to have their lives complete with their songs and hits and signatures. Billy's platinum hair, Joan's bad reputation, KISS's painted faces. Even her own friends have their own. What does she have? Nothing important.

She swings her leather bag over a shoulder and exits her room after a failed search for a clean leather jacket. She'd rather get a fever before she wears one of the coats her mother brought. Winter-exclusive trench coats with belts don't work well with shaggy hair and studs.

She blinks in confusion, halting in front of her door before looking over her brother's room. His bed prepared and muddles of clothing and lacrosse equipment scattered everywhere.

He already left for a school. What a _surprise_.

Her heart skips and she checks her studded watch, noticing the time irritably. She'd usually get to school by seven and it was already eight-twenty. The doors usually closed by eight-fifty but she had time to smoke a blunt or two.

She descends the stairs and snatches her keys. For a moment, she considers grabbing one of her brother's jackets but decided against it before leaving her mansion. Morning light pours through the dim-lit room.

Her damn brother had taken the family car. She could only wonder what he was doing but walking wouldn't do much to exhaust her. Especially since she won't need a cab since the school was in distance.

Gusts of cutting wind sent her fingernails into her palms. It made her almost wish for one of those stupid coats she never touched.

She sighs in the frozen air and took a trembling step down the cobblestones. Before another and another and another ...

She felt normal again.

Life was becoming normal, too.

And as she completes the crooked path, rounding the corner to head off, she crashes into someone – staggering back and swearing. She was ready to apologize before she notices who it was.

She meets familiar eyes and smiles, a real smile. And receives one in the next second.

Then Bryn says to Javier. "Good to see you again, Javi."

**X**

"We really need to quit skipping school." Steven told Matt Stradlin as he spun an unlit cigarette in his fingers. Matt stares Steven down before clicking on his lighter to ignite it and only watch it crisp. "We're not gonna graduate and I don't wanna stay stuck in damn St. Jude's forever."

They sit outside Steven's ratty apartment building. The persistent stink of stale cigarettes and teenage-revolution in the air. They both wore their uniforms, pristine shirts crumpled and stained blazers. Steven has still been against lighting since his previous encounter with Bryn. Matt has been working on retaining him to his normal self.

Just like how Vena had gotten the stone-solid guitarist to loosen up last weekend after she followed him to their band's concert.

But each day Steven's desire for hard drugs and booze weakens but not enough because the wanting of white smoke couldn't leave him. He even begun distracting himself with subtle things like chewing on strands of wheat he plucks from a half-dead plant his mother had given him months back.

"Steven," Matt calls in a monotone. Steven cranes his neck back as he turns to look at Matt, sitting a few steps above him. "you haven't said anything about this in a while but you still have that crush on Bryn?"

He smiles and shakes his head. "I _never _liked Bryn at least not like that. She's just her, you know."

"You know you're pretty convincing but I don't believe you."

Anger sparks and fizzes in his eyes. "_What_? I honestly don't like her!"

"You forget this –" Matt ignores the outburst. He's well-used to their friends threats and screams. "But you were actually very drunk so I doubt you even knew what happened." Steven cocks an inquiring brow but stays quiet. "It was right after our recent show and you went on about Bryn's intro to Lila Thorn. You were over my house because you lost your keys and said – 'I had never wanted to do Bryn so, _so_ bad.'"

Adler grits his teeth and caresses the healing bruise over his eye. He could only imagine how _that _ended.

"What'd you do?"

Matt laughs and leans back on the banister. "I punched you in the chest pretty hard because you nearly choked to death on a cigarette."

He shut his eyes and even though he didn't remember saying that. He _does _remember the multicolored bruise on his stomach the next morning. He takes in deep breaths. "You told me I fell off your couch."

"Gotta lie somehow but you have to admit it is pretty believable."

He nods. They were best friends for a reason.

"Oh, Maaaaaaatt!"

They turn to see Vena coming toward them. Who would've thought another girl other than Bryn would skip school? Unlike them, she wasn't wearing a uniform. Instead a pale blouse with an arrowhead collar and a tulle skirt, raven hair tumbled over her shoulders and down her back in a stream of inky whorls.

She was beautiful and you'd have to be blind to not say so.

Vena beelines for them until she's in their faces, inwardly grimacing at how repulsive and disgusting the building they were outside of. Why was she even trying to seduce this loser again? He was so poor and low-class but if it meant making Tinsley suffer, she was all for it.

Steven blinks. She looked awfully familiar. But who was she exactly?

"Hey, Vena," Matt greets, causing another wave of confusion to crash over the former druggie. "what's up?"

She opens her mouth to speak but Steven beats her to it. "Vena," he parrots. "Have we _met_?"

"Christ, Steven."

Vena shakes her head. "Um, not that I know of." she lies, voice rising to a high octave. "Well, anyway, it's a pleasure to meet you."

He rolls his eyes. She's wasn't a good liar. "Back at 'cha."

Matt narrows his eyes and glares at his friend before meeting Vena's gaze. "Ignore him. Wanna go for breakfast?"

Steven gapes in shock and Vena smiles pleasingly. "Sure." she replies, ignoring the stunned face before her. "I know a great place."

"Great." Matt says and forces the cigarette into Steven's hand. "Here, smoke. It'll make you feel better." He jumps to his feet and throws his blazer over his shoulder, smiling crookedly at Vena. "You ready?"

"Of course!"

They walk off and Matt leaves his friend, forgotten, swinging an arm around the slender ice queen while they begin murmuring to each other.

Shows how much people still care for him but he knew enough about Vena's lies just by seeing those fake smiles she gave. He could only wonder of the other tricks she had up her sleeve –

But she sure wouldn't get his approval.

He drops the cigarette at his feet and stomps it out, watching their forms disappear down the street before heading for his favorite music store.

Halfway through, he kicks a bottle into the gutter and hears it break with a _pop_.

Hopefully, he wasn't the only idiot who didn't know who Vena was.

**X**

Claire hurries through the St. Jude's courtyard and pushes through the boys'; looking for only one in particular that wasn't Dean. She's been spending every second with him but was searching for a Blackwell. Harper Blackwell. And it seemed much harder today. Maybe he was just in early lacrosse practice or taking care of his sister.

She wasn't finding him for her own spite or needs. She was still trying to get him to believe her when she talked about Vena. He always seemed to think she was lying, nowadays. Even though she _does _lie, she wouldn't lie to him but Vena probably got to him before she had the chance to.

She shoves way through jocks, heels clicking as she rounds the corner for the practice site Harper usually spent most hours at. To her surprise, he wasn't in the field, only the coach, who busied himself arranging equipment.

She scoffs and walks off, careful to not get dirt in her heels.

He was probably just hiding to anger her. Especially how sometimes he could act so very childish. They had broken up for a reason, you know.

But thinking of the stupidity of their togetherness brought nothing but gratefulness.

Is that such a bad thing?

She smoothes her collar before choosing another route Javier had once shown her. It was where many smoke weed and enact infidelity behind their boyfriend/girlfriends backs.

It's very surprising to say no one really gets caught back here because most are either too drugged or smart enough to not say anything. Snitches get stitches is the motto.

Before Claire could maneuver through the area, she was met with the intense stench of mixed perfumes and drugs. Not many were actually smoking today but the scene still brought her tremors.

Tinsley and Harper were _kissing_. Her legs hitched on his torso and his hands on her thighs. They didn't once bother separating despite all the presence around them, mouths crushed and tongues making furious travel, it almost seemed _perfect_. Like a twisted fairytale.

And even though she wanted to say something, she couldn't discover her voice.

She felt her heart leap into her stomach and stay there. Unmoving. She felt like an obstacle to their love and it made her chest sting and ache like someone just embedded an arrow there.

Harper's hands graze into Tinsley's hair as he held her. She laughs against him and caresses his hair.

Claire watches them awhile longer before taking her Louboutins and dignity back into reality.

**X**

"Javier Dominguez." Bryn purrs, forcing the remainders of her accent to make herself seem more seductive than she needs to be. She folds her arms and cocks a brow. "Who would've ever thought you'd come to see _me_? I find that awfully uncharacteristic of you." He kept his silence but a smirk entrances while he approaches her, grabbing her waist and holding her to him with an angel's touch.

"I was just passing by and thought I'd come see the beautiful girl I saved last night." he replies and to his amusement, he felt her breath hitch in her ribs.

"Well, um, thanks." she answers, losing the accent instantly. It was him who rescued her and if not for him, Tinsley, and Harper, she'd likely be dead. She was much better especially without Scott's painful criticism but that was history. "Aren't you supposed to be getting to school? Don't want to be late now, do we?"

His smirk doesn't go. "I guess not." he says and she glides out of his arms. "Mind if I join you?"

Brushing off his hands, she takes a cigarette from her pockets. "Sure, I don't care. Only if you don't mind walking a little."

They begin, savoring time. "If it means I get to be with you, I'd walk the rest of my life."

Bryn smiles, forcing herself not to laugh, she just manages when she looks back to her unlit cigarette. "Yeah, yeah, you seriously have to work on your comebacks if you want to get to me." Another freezing gust shook her as she leans forward on her heels. "Damn, damn, damn. I seriously should've got one of my brother's _damn_ jackets."

And after she spoke, a blazer drapes across her shoulders and she looks up at him, confused. He stood smiling, boyish charm teetering her edge. "Don't want you to get sick now, do we? Then we'll never really get to spend this time together again."

She quiets to slide her arms into the sleeves of his blazer. She was thankful to have him but also knew he was still a shameless heartbreaker.

She wouldn't let him break her heart. He didn't deserve to come close.

But she had to learn that in the hardest way while she was stuck in some publicized scandal with her ex-lover, David Pesavento.

Well, he was doing his time.

"You know you didn't have to –" Bryn mumbles but doesn't let it go. She enjoyed its warmth and in some weird way, she noticed it smelt like him. Expensive cologne and cigarettes wafts through the fabric. "You'll get cold, too."

He brought his palm to the curve of her back, leading her along. "It doesn't really matter to me because compared to what you're wearing." His eyes direct to the shortened length of her skirt. Not that he was complaining ... "You'd be better off keeping it."

Bryn rolls her eyes and laughs. "You're always using charm on me. You know you don't have to all the time."

"I wouldn't be standing here, if I didn't."

"You probably would but I just wouldn't be paying attention." she admits as they stride the streets. He smiles, firm hand on her spine. "I would assume you'd be with Vena since Claire told me she was your love."

Javier's hand froze on her back before retreating into a pocket. It wasn't surprising Claire had revealed his very unfortunate past to Bryn since Claire knew everyone else's but regretted hers. He knew Claire's, Tinsley's, and Vena's only because he's known them for years.

Harper and Bryn were probably the only two he didn't know entirely. He only knew they were transfer students from Italy, were former outcasts, Harper once dated Claire and Bryn had her alter-ego, Lila Thorn.

When you think of that combined, it doesn't seem like much. But if you know anything about the Blackwells, you'd be treating this news with value.

He knows he can't just wave her comment off because it'd return to haunt him much later.

It's better to answer now, _right_?

"I admit." Javier responds after a lifelong pause. "Vena was once my love but not my only. A man never reveals his true love … or so my father says."

"Your dad sounds like a pimp."

Javier laughs. "He probably was since he is _my _dad."

This time Bryn is the one to laugh, shoulders quaking as she slicks fingers through her hair. He never realized how nice her laugh seemed to be.

She looks away and suddenly at his hand where it lingers at his side. It was bandaged and the gauze was slightly dirtied with red, she was about to gasp but hid it as she looks back to him.

"What happened to your hand?" she asks and feels instant remorse.

"I cut it when I jumped in after you." She scowls and lifts his bandaged knuckles, observantly. "Well, thanks, _Mom_, but it's fine. I went to the doctor and it's barely a gash."

"Shut up. I'm trying to be nice." she mumbles and lowers his hand after surveillance. "Gotta be careful. If I only told you how many times I cut my hand." She hits his arm and gestures for them to continue on. "Seriously, Harper's expressions were just –"

Bryn halts and stares ahead, lips parted. Javier also stops and looks at her, noticing her eyes bug and a defensive gasp come from her clenched jaw. It was strange but he shouldn't exactly be questioning.

Javier looks ahead and eventually sees her prey, Vena, striding cheerfully, mouth in a grin, one that didn't fit her face. Before anyone could stop her from approaching, she grabs hard onto Bryn's hands and rose her shoulders.

"Bryn! It's just so great to see you again!" she chimes enthusiastically, ignoring the glare Javier gave her. Bryn's face was set in stone as she glares over Vena. "We must catch up! You know maybe, like, now since you don't really seem to be doing anything!"

"I'm kind of with him." she mentions, keeping her temper in-control.

Vena only giggles again, shaking her head. "He'll be fine! I'm sure he won't mind if I take you away for a few minutes!"

Javier grits his teeth and composes himself.

Although before either could reply, Vena clamps a hand on Bryn's elbow and drags her around the corner and across the street.

He sighs to himself. As long as Vena didn't do anything to her, he'd be alright.

_Count your blessings_, _J_.

**X**

Once Javier was no longer in distance, Bryn found her back against redbrick and was soon met with Vena's devilish eyes, malicious and venomous, her smirk dark. Her hand immediately left Bryn as she folds her fingers behind her in a fashion that didn't suit her.

"I've finally got the dirt I _wanted _on you, Blackwell." she snarls and salvages her cell from the pocket of her skirt and though Bryn wanted to say she wasn't scared of Vena's accusations she knew nothing and couldn't get dirt this early in the week.

And she had much more troubles than any New Yorker around so she could only wonder what Vena managed to get on her.

"Why don't you mention what you have on me first? Makes everything a lot clearer." Bryn quips and Vena's sadistic smile broadens, holds out her phone to Bryn, where she was for once at a loss of words.

She and Javier were in the filmy image, kissing and half-naked. It looked like some sick shot out of a sex tape. It was horrid and embarrassing, the perfect image to ruin a reputation. Or in her case, _worsen_.

She wanted to snatch the phone but couldn't build the willpower. "Where did you get that?" she demands, throat parched.

Vena is satisfied. "I have my sources." she adds and doesn't even take time to think. "If you don't do what I say when I say it, this _picture _of the mourning Blackwell on top of New York's playboy isn't going to Gossip Bee but the _media_. I'll be glad to give it to the tabloids. They'll eat me alive for this."

Suddenly the fearless girl was fighting the urge of tears. She would never let herself be embarrassed so cruelly even if it meant following Vena. And though she hates to admit she wouldn't want the same to Javier. "I'll do whatever you want." Bryn vows solemnly, her fists shaking. "Just don't get J-Javier involved in this."

The seductress smirks. "Gladly, now come." She hooks her arm in Bryn's. "Since you are officially my _maid _for the time, we're going off to Constance and I'll be able to flaunt my new minion, this will surely be a day to remember."

Bryn only lets the beauty drag her. Not even deciding on any else.

And from afar, Claire watches.

Vena would surely be going _down_.


	11. Chapter 11

Harper enters his house and throws his equipment bag by the piano. A coat of gray overlays the glossy black piano top. Harper locks the door behind him, staring at the object in thought and pondering on.

It's been long since anyone has really played their family piano. His father was the only one to ever touch it and even when he didn't play, he'd simply sit to stare at the keys, thinking for hours at a time. Praying for the time he was never able to abuse. But even when his visits were minimal, they always meant the world to Bryn.

Now, they would no longer come and even thinking about it stung. There was nothing neither could do but they were stable and would be alright.

His brows raise at a flash of mahogany. His eyes pilot to where a leather-bound journal is positioned against a piano leg. Whose could that be? Even though he didn't like to look through others' belongings without permission, what harm could really be done by checking inside? It was his house.

He peers over his shoulder, looking like a fugitive with his huge eyes and raised brows. He crouches and lifts the book, his fingers curving around it as he straightens up. He was about to flip to the first page before he noticed the inscription on the front.

The words were Italian and from listening to his father's tales of meeting his first and "forever love," Luciana, were what swept her off her feet.

_Tu sei la mia aria_.

The distinct translation: _You are my air_.

It was once one of his father's most featured stories though he and Bryn heard it a lot, they never declined to rehear it because he was always so passionate and animated when speaking on about his youngest years.

He unclicks the lock and turns to the first page, blinks, and narrows his eyes precisely. His father's words were written, the handwriting was neat and in Italian. Each page was dated and smelt of cinnamon incense, every next page was torn and the ink was smudged.

Some entries weren't exactly important since they simply mentioned casual days in his Switzerland office, organizing paperwork and his assistant bringing late-night cocoa to his study during the frostiest nights.

Each entry lengthened to become more serious and longer. These happened before his passing and were filled with familiar words like _deception _and _indignation_, which he used to hear his father use when he spoke with his mother.

Prescription drugs were mentioned and remorse and regret. Though Harper felt a slight upset his father did drugs, knowing he regretted his actions eased some frustration.

There wasn't only guilt and fear, also fondness and gratefulness.

He wrote on how he was glad for his children and proud of their achievements, Harper's winning championship game and Bryn's musical abilities, admiring their talents and warm hearts. Even writing on how they overcame –

And before he knew it he'd reached the most recent entry.

It was barely a day before his death and there wasn't much but a smeared blue sentence.

_I have nothing else to say_.

Harper read it over a few times before shutting the book. He didn't have anything else to say either.

Talk about the man of no words.

He's thankful when Bryn arrives home at that, her fingers snapping the lock shut as she looks to him. A frown on her forehead, her mouth in a scowl, and her glittery eyelids flickering in exhaustion. She looks inches from collapsing on the piano.

But Harper knew better than to ask.

He notices some odd things about her today and that was what brought worsening confusion.

Her jaw was clenched and he notices her hand linger on the knob an extra second before their eyes met in a collision of arty blue. Her jaw slackens in a smile.

"Hey, Harper," she murmurs, her usual bellowing voice is raspy. "Band practice, sorry, out late –" She coughs into her palm and the frown on her forehead thickens. "It was _too _intense."

Harper strides over to her and lowers his hand onto her shoulder. "Don't worry about it. I know your practices are usually ... wild, but your voice shouldn't be that bad."

She winces to speak. "I know …" she whispers, shoulders low. "My throat's just real sore." Her voice cracks on the last word as she spun a tuft of brown around her index finger. Seconds later, he notices a stripe of peroxide-blonde in her hairline.

"Why don't you go upstairs to rest? I'll get a maid to bring up some tea and lemon."

After a minute, Bryn nods. "Okay, I think I need it."

She rotates on her heel and drags herself up the stairs. He looks away and withdraws his father's journal into his jacket.

He looks back and watches as she disappears into her room, slamming the door with a _thrum_.

Her skirt was on wrong.

He didn't want to know what band practice was, anyway.

**X**

"And she _ditched_?" Steven asks Javier, tossing his head back to laugh. He doesn't necessarily _like _Steven but since he's the only one of Bryn's friends he managed to find around this time. He's still confused on why Bryn ditched him. He could only wonder what Vena had said about their past schemes and love-making. "That's some hilarious shit. But, really, doesn't seem like her."

"I found it odd as well." Javier agreed, almost distastefully to the likes of _him_. "But I haven't seen her all day and Vena's been surprisingly secluded lately, especially since she spoke to Bryn earlier." Steven nods and watches a group of punks smoke joints from afar.

He continues watching until Javier makes a movement to leave. Steven startles, eyes wide and lips parted. "Wait, wait, wait!" he cries, waving his palms frantically. "Vena's the girl that looks like a coked-up Megan Fox, right?"

Javier takes a moment to respond. "I guess you could say that." he replies, getting over Steven's attention-span as he returns to look at the rebels, who leave into an alleyway.

He was only _human_. And it's not easy to recover when you were once an addict that got wasted in broad daylight.

"Yeah, I remember her ... sorta." Steven adds. "Stradlin and her been hangin'. By that, I mean _too _much. Every damn second she shows up lookin' just as stoned as me. She's bipolar, too. She was smiling this morning and when Stradlin turned his back she gave me the dirtiest look."

Javier arches a brow but says nothing. Ever since she had gotten back to Constance she's been nothing but brutal to those around her – well, she always been that way but was never as bad. She used to actually be reasonable until she became what she is today.

One _hell _of a bitch.

"In some sick way that almost sounds like her," Javier admits and receives confusion from Steven. "She once went to Constance a few years back but many don't really remember."

Actually many _do_ but Steven just forgot due to the drugs he's snorted over the years.

"I feel stupid for sayin' I don't remember and I've been here since I was nearly five." Steven advises, biting his nails. "I just don't want my best friend to fall in love with her because I don't trust her. Especially since Bryn is so suspicious of her."

It wasn't a secret Steven once had an insane crush on Bryn and she accepted his love with pride but never returned his feelings. But who knew Adler had such a friendship with her?

Javier quiets and with a deep breath, Steven continues. "That's just the thing. She usually isn't this suspicious of people since –" He stops abruptly and swings his backpack over his shoulder, slicking his fingers through his hair, they quiver. Bryn always yelled when he mentioned David to anyone. She never liked to be reminded of that monster. "Look, I said a lot. I gotta go."

He was glad when Javier didn't attempt to stop him. He only watches Steven run into an alleyway, presumably to the music store, where sober friends worked. That place was probably his only sanctuary other than school which was also second _worse_ to stay drug-free.

A close thump led him to look for the noise. Claire has her Gucci bag on the empty seat beside him, mouth twisted and dents on her forehead. She looks stressed and irritated, that expression was almost permanent on her face, nowadays.

Unless she was around Dean.

She dabs her clammy forehead with her fingertips and inhales exhaustedly. "Why the _hell _do you have to be in this damn courtyard all the time? Do you know how long it takes to get down here in _heels_?"

"Technically, Claire, it's barely across the street from yours." Javier points out and digs in the pocket of his trousers, pulling out a cigarette. Claire's eyes narrow at his casualty. She came to _help _him and he couldn't show her the slightest kindness? Two can play at that game.

"Fine," she says and shrugs, reclaiming her bag. "I was wondering if you were curious on what happened to Bryn this morning." She manages to shroud her amusement when she sees him raise eyebrows. "I guess I'll just be going since you don't care about Bryn all that much."

She hears an irritated sigh and turns, muffling her laughter with the look on his face.

He had something she hasn't seen in a while. There was a sort of frustration swimming through the light in his eyes, his brows furrowed and indents ruined them. He scowls and she's sure he was keeping his jaw tight. He would never raise his voice in public.

She looks away to unzip her bag for her phone, punches keys, and directs it out. He accepts it and notices a tiny video screen.

Bryn and Vena stood in an alleyway, his blazer on her shoulders. A deep frown mars her thin brows. She looks embarrassed and ashamed, a face royalty wears if they break laws or are forced into an engagement. Her gape and Vena's venomous smirk never stray.

_If you don_'_t do what I say when I say it_, _this _picture _of the_ _mourning Blackwell on top of New York_'_s playboy isn't going to Gossip Bee_ _but the media_. _I_'_ll be glad to give it to the tabloids_._ They_'_ll eat me alive for this. _Vena's smirk broadens and the realization shocks Bryn. Her normal unafraid face shatters and her eyes film over as she slumps against the wall.

Was this even Vena anymore? Why would she do something so cruel? It was _almost_ hard to believe.

Though they all knew she would do the right thing, Bryn wouldn't want to embarrass herself and just send her blade in another direction. Vena's words could plunge deeply like a twisting knife and evading them was never easy.

_I_'_ll do whatever you want. _Bryn surrenders and clenches a shaking fist. _Just don't get J-Javier involved in this. _Her voice cracks on his name and he'd be happier if not for this. Who would've ever thought she'd give in to Vena? But what stunned him was that she begged Vena to leave him alone.

But it didn't end there.

_Gladly_, _now come. _Vena's arm links with Bryn's enthusiastically while she startles into the seductress's flank. _Since you are officially my maid – _Javier scoffs – _for the time_, _we_'_re going off to Constance and I_'_ll be able to flaunt my new minion_, _this will surely be a day to remember._

Javier returns Claire's phone and shuts his eyes, keeping his temper controlled despite the emotions dwelling within him.

Claire smiles.

"How should we begin?"

**X**

"Thanks for walking with me." Tinsley tells Dean as they walk saunter through Central Park. A group of sparrows hop to a crumpled Burger King bag, ketchup packets and fries spill out as they begin to flutter all around. "Everyone has been pretty wild over Vena's reign and how she's gonna knock the crown off Claire's head, the works."

"I'm still surprised that she's even back in the first place. I thought she would've learned her lesson after she was kicked out of Constance." Dean admits and kicks stones, nearly tripping over his own feet. _That's real charm_,_ way to go_, he thinks sarcastically and is glad when she doesn't notice.

"I think she only came back because –" Tinsley begins and her words trail. She wants to say revenge because Vena and she hadn't separated on the best of terms when she fled New York awhile back. Boarding school was her escape to but it'd gotten better when she returned to visit a friend and met Harper within the first minutes, almost wishing she had a clean slate when their eyes met.

Hers an inquiring green, his an enthusiastic blue. A collision of beautiful watercolors.

"Because of Javier." she finishes before Dean can question. "She broke up with him before she ran off to England, I think it was ... rude but she's probably trying to get him back now."

Honestly, she knew that wasn't it but wouldn't let any know. She didn't want to be suspicious of Vena because they were once best friends but considering what she's been doing rumor-wise. She's had her doubts but decided to listen to Bryn and not pay attention to her schemes and lies.

"I hate to disagree but I don't think that's it." Dean says and she thought he'd read her mind. "Vena hasn't always been nice even though she portrays it ... I always found you nicer than her. Even in the past. The difference was you had a heart and she didn't."

Tinsley took his words to mind. She never liked her past-self. It sickened her. Sometimes, she couldn't believe how she acted in the first place. She was repulsive and conniving. Not to mention the rudest in Constance with the exception of Vena.

They weren't exactly Duchess Catherines.

Knowing Dean probably meant what he said, she couldn't not smile. "Thanks, that's sweet. You're probably the only one who thinks that. Even Matthew admitted he used to hate me."

Which was true and though he never said it to her, he practically told everyone else.

He didn't talk to her for two weeks when she revealed their kiss to Vena.

It wasn't that he was particularly flustered by locking lips. It was more embarrassing at how suddenly it happened. You're supposed to feel fireworks when you kiss or sleep with someone but there was nothing when they ... kissed.

Nothing's shocking, huh?

"You think more than me," Dean jokes and Tinsley laughs. He wants to make her smile. She was still his first love after all. He did still feel something. "I blank out in the middle of conversations with Claire, sometimes."

Tinsley giggles and tosses her hair over her shoulders. "I think everyone of Claire's friends has done that once."

Yeah, Claire could talk and I mean _talk_.

Dean chuckles and when he's about to speak –

"Tinsley, get over here _now_!"

They turn to find Claire and Javier standing down the block, Claire seething and Javier frowning. Those two expressions were never a good thing.

Tinsley turns to Dean with hopeful eyes, almost sad. He shakes his head understandingly. "Go, I don't want you getting in trouble now."

She nods and hurries off.

The friends she has never been so _glad_ to have.

**X**

"Hmm, who should we make miserable today?" Vena croons as she walks down Park Avenue. Bryn's forced arm linked tight with Vena's. Beaten combat boots and pretty heels click down the concrete. Bryn looks away to hide her eye roll. "Especially since we haven't been able to find _anyone _decent."

Bryn's crimson mouth poises in a mocking pout. She's glad Vena isn't using any of her witty comments against her or else she'd be caged in media hell. "Oh, hell," she says and Vena looks to her, mimicking her frown. "That sucks _ass_, doesn't it?"

"It does." Vena agrees, voice chirping with fake somber. "That means I have to keep you longer, darling."

An indifferent smile comes to Bryn's face and she shifts her arm in Vena's. "Oh, that sucks harder, doesn't it?"

"Yes, so find someone quick to embarrass." She directs to the sea of people, many passing unknowingly. "Or like I said." She pats her coat pocket with her free hand. "Blackmail, Blackwell."

"I don't know why you used me." Bryn stats, flexing her fingers. "I'm the worse when it comes to embarrassing people. You'd be better off with Javier or Claire. The best I could do is this." She halts her and Vena and extends a leg, tripping a random patron. The person looks around with a glare before heading away. "A rebel isn't the same as a bitch."

Vena looks back to Bryn and they continue stride. "They can be. You see Claire ... even though she doesn't exactly count as a rebel. She's clearly a bitch. Don't you spend time with her?"

"Only when I'm forced to." She shrugs. "My brother dated her once and she's ... ugh."

"We seem to have something in common after all." she muses, looking to Bryn.

"I won't hurt her so you better chill." Bryn murmurs, focusing with a glare on Vena, who smirks away pleasantly. "I hate her but I won't risk my brother killing me."

"It's not whether he'll be upset or not, it's whether you want to keep your reputation good." She smirks and laughs. "Or in your case, bad. So it's either make someone you know and love miserable or else ..."

It takes all Bryn's might to not shove her heel into Vena's.

She sighs and slides her arm from Vena's and hurries across the street. She doesn't know where she's heading but all she wants is to get away. Why was she being bothered? She hadn't done anything wrong in the first place.

She looks back and sees Vena, staring at her with a look of frost.

Then she lets her hand touch her chest, feeling for her heartbeat as she listens to it thrum in her ears.

She sighs, slicks a hand through her hair and runs.

She didn't need this.

**X**

"They're not going to do anything to you, Javier."

"I don't talk to them for a reason, they know enough about me."

Tinsley pushes Javier's shoulders, leading him in the direction of the rebels. They're at their usual table, dining on cigarettes and McDonald's. Steven sits between some girls and the evil-kid, who yelled at him when he asked about the Blackwells during the funeral-era.

She smiles and directs him closer. "Trust me, I know them! They're really nice." Her eyes widen when she sees one attempt to light a soda can on fire. They burst into wild laughter and crunch the can. "Well, most of them …"

Steven blinks and waves at Tinsley, he smiles gladly and offers her a cigarette, which she declines as they ease into friendly conversation. Javier glares at her. _Traitor_.

"I haven't seen Bryn." The dark-haired guy advises. "You can leave now."

Javier tucks his knuckles in his coat. "I wasn't going to ask that, I just wanted –"

"To fuck Bryn? She got better things to do. I'm sure her life doesn't revolve around you." Oh, yeah, his name was Matt. "You can go claim a new Constance girl. I hear the count of them is lowering. So I'd be quick. Especially since a good –"

"CAN YOU SHUT UP?"

Matt quiets, his eyebrows knitted, and he sits back. He uses this to get his words across. "I just want to talk about Bryn. It's important, actually. And involves more than one person and not in the way you're thinking. I swear."

Tinsley and Steven smile and return to their conversation. Everyone else does, too.

Matt arises and grabs a cigarette, his eyes are narrow and he's not smiling. "This better be good."

**X**

It's the next day when Bryn rushes through St. Jude's empty courtyard after a conversation with Harper on seasonal lacrosse. He knew nothing of what went on behind the Constance doors. He wouldn't either because he didn't need to get involved in her problems. She had to try to keep his life normal. She'd already massacred their year once when –

"Bryn!"

She doesn't bother spinning around because she recognizes the voice. She spent the whole day yesterday avoiding Claire, Tinsley, and Javier. And it isn't easy when you live in walking-distance of them and your brother's life also revolves around them. Her heart thunders and she shakes in her boots, speeding up before they could manage to catch her. She didn't like hiding because it wasn't _her_. She was supposed to be fearless.

She would be if Vena hadn't shoveled dirt up to her chin.

She hears frantic footsteps behind her and when she's ready to curb the corner, someone catches her forearm and yanks her back, their grip unyielding. It was like Harper's but she knew otherwise.

She could recognize the cigarettes and cologne _anywhere_.

Bryn turns to her supposed captor with wide eyes, lashes glistening. She attempts to wrench from the steely grip but prevails. She wouldn't _cry_. "Javier, let go." she says and narrows her eyes. His fingers on her arm, not once quivering in the glare she gives. "I'm not kidding. I have to get to class."

"Class will have to wait, then." he assures and raises a hand to touch her face, she startles back and he retreats. "Listen, Bryn, I know what Vena has –"

"Bryn." They look to find Vena's eyes on them. Which would surely devise another scheme of torture, Javier knew by feeling Bryn stiffening under his hand like she was electrocuted. "What are you doing with _him_?"

"Uh ... nothing?" she answers and her voice rises in a forming question. "I was just leaving to come see you after I left my brother in the field." She reaches to rip her arm from Javier's but he still doesn't let go. His own glare blazes into her like an open flame. He didn't want to see her suffer at Vena's hand. No one deserved that. Especially not _her_.

"No, Bryn," he stats and loosens his grip to encircle her waist. Her eyebrows raise in indefinite silence as she looks back at Vena, who silently bids to control herself. "Leave her alone, Vena. She didn't do anything to you."

"Shut up!" she screeches, channeling a banshee. Bryn shivers and buries her face in her hair. "You can't tell me what to do! If you want to think that, _fine_. As long as I have what I _have_, I'm untouchable!" She snatches her phone out her bag, clicking it on. "Why don't I send this picture to the tabloids right _now_?"

Bryn cries out and fights Javier furiously. He swings another arm over her to keep her still. "No!" she yells, her voice rising to fearful octaves. She whips the hair out of her eyes and turns to Javier in growing anger. "Lemme go! I can't let her –"

Javier's mouth is on her ear and he releases a hand to tuck a short strand behind her ear. "Shh." he whispers tenderly, his warmth tickles her earlobe. "I've got this."

She slumps against him and sighs. She believes him to a limit.

Vena looks away from them to browse the icons of her phone. "Where is that _damn _picture?" she demands of herself, searching every article, eyes skimming each icon. "Where the hell is _it_?"

A sigh of relief escapes Bryn and Javier smiles and leads his fingers around Bryn's collarbone. "If you're wondering where that went, let's just say someone had gotten hold of your phone." He narrows his eyes and his smile turns into a smirk. "That was a nice try at attempting to embarrass Bryn and I but you failed. Which is unlike you, Ven." Vena's growls and Bryn cracks her own smile. "And if you attempt to start up a story on us being together, it'd better be good next time because I'm sure we will be."

Bryn whips back in surprise. Vena simply glares.

His brows raise in amusement. "But before I finish off with you, let me just say if you try it again I haven't forgotten about what you concurred in the past and I wouldn't be afraid to give _that_ to the media."

Vena's brows furrow and dents form upon her forehead. "If you do that you will officially start _war _between Tinsley, Claire, me, you, and –" Her eyes darken at Bryn. "_Her_."

He shakes his head and chuckles, releasing the harsh grip he kept at Bryn. His smirk widens and he swings Bryn under his arm, ducking her low and enjoying the gasp he heard from both girls. Talk about satisfying. "Not yet I haven't –"

His lips silence Bryn's and their isn't reluctance in either of them as their mouths open against one another, tongues entering strongly. Hearing the fleeing clip of Vena's heels, he breaks the kiss and smiles when he doesn't find Bryn's hesitancy.

She smiles gratefully and caresses his jaw. "Thank you."

His smirk weakens but doesn't entirely vanish. "Anytime. Now, are you ready for war, Blackwell?"

She laughs as she reaches to kiss him again, mouths caught in spontaneous fever.

"As long as you're on my side, I'm ready for anything."

"You're damn right."

**X**

**And that finishes that and finally the war is official and Bryn is back to the good side. :) I hope you all liked this one, I worked for a while on this and this last scene was a bit hard to work on.**

**I also decided on the official theme song for the story and I decided it'd be "Make Me Wanna Die" by The Pretty Reckless. You all should check it out, it's one of the greatest songs and plus it's by GG's very own, Taylor Momsen.**


	12. Chapter 12

"Um, Matthew?"

Matt turns away from his Les Paul. His arched auburn brows high on his creased forehead, his eyes widen as he sets his guitar down, steadying it with a fist around the neck. A puzzled scowl overtakes his mouth. With his free hand, he shakily combs his fingers through his hair.

He opens his mouth to reply but his voice is caught and he is wordless because now the only reasons they speak involve either Harper or Bryn. How Harper spent most time on the field and how Bryn attempted to break a record for being the youngest teen to smoke enough cigarettes for an entire human lifespan.

Within his thoughts, he manages his voice, even though it came much lesser than he'd hoped.

"Yes?" he answers and swears at his frail tone. He regains himself by coughing into his palm. "Yeah?"

The girl flips her honey gold tresses away from her face, her eyes sparkle and dimples score around her mouth. She was just as pretty as he remembered. Even when with Vena, he still had a mild crush. He could never admit it though.

Where would that get him? Would that get him into an Ivy League college? Not by saying he loved this girl. That wouldn't do him any good. He'd only lose a friend in the process. He nearly lost Steven to drugs and Bryn to her father's coke-induced death. Those were enough to make him savor the friends he'd already had.

And he most certainly wouldn't mangle a relationship to satisfy himself.

"You know, we haven't spoken since Bryn and Harper's father died." she stats, the dimples of her smile weakening. He notices the sourness in her expression and though he couldn't help but have a straight face, he still felt bad since she was blameless in it all.

So he smiles and blocks the negativity. "I know. And after all these years, you could at least call me Matt, Tinsley." he told her, her smile reappears and his debuts with a friendly air. "I guess we just haven't really had time to hang. I'm with Steven, you're with Claire and Bryn and that's just it."

She nods and the sweetness in her smile fades once more. "True." she agrees and nods, almost to herself. The vivacity in her eye suddenly detaches itself. "You know, the anniversary of Mr. Baxter's death is coming up."

He blinks and nearly drops his guitar. Already? It always came by so fast that he often forgot about it and it was part to his luck because he never liked remembering how the kindest teacher in Constance had perished in the cold halls. No one deserves a cruel death.

"Really?" Matt says and swings his guitar back into his lap, closely twisting a tendon. "I can hardly believe it. It comes before I even have time to remember. Claire's supposed to be hosting another one of her parties. For New Year's, I think. You going?"

"Yeah, it'll get me over this month. I'm glad it's finally ending." she advises and her eyes narrow. "Are you?"

He smiles. "Vena and I are going together and I have to make sure Steven doesn't snort anything while he's there, so I'm technically his chaperone." Tinsley giggles and his smile broadens into a smirk. "And, you? With Harper, I suppose?"

"I don't know. He hasn't asked me and I'm still wondering if he even wants to go." Tinsley admits and bites her glossy lip. That was the main question. Would he even ask her? Because when she went to Claire's end-of-the-year gala, she wanted to be on his arm and wanted to crash her lips to his when the clock struck twelve. "Especially since he's been so busy with sports and all … and, you know."

"Why don't you ask Bryn to snoop for you?" he suggests and even though he would've rather went with her himself, he still didn't want to see her upset. Maybe Bryn would be of some help. They were becoming fast friends, anyway. As long as she didn't hurt Harper, Tinsley was in the safe zone. "I doubt she'll really hurt you now. It'll be a waste of energy."

She laughs and playfully smacks his shoulders with her bag. "And what is _that _supposed to mean?"

He chuckles and dodges the next blow from her purse. "I'm just saying! Seeing, you guys are becoming good friends. Maybe, you'll be as good as them someday!" He nods at the path of Steven and Bryn in the Constance courtyard, a hopscotch column drawn on the concrete. Steven stands beside it and tosses a grape, it rolls and lands on the highest block. Bryn laughs and Steven looks uneasy as he hops, one-footed. Bryn watches in amusement as he stumbles, barely on the second square before falling and crushing the grape.

Bryn's shoulders quake with intense laughter as she stares down Steven. He cranes his neck and raises a hand to whack her shin playfully. She continues laughing before kicking him, swinging her bag over her shoulder and marching off. She looks harmless when she isn't bombed. Matthew was right. She wouldn't do anything bad.

Bryn was a good friend and she proved that to her.

Tinsley bobs her blonde head. "Maybe I'll do that."

He waves at her retreating form. "Good luck."

She turns back around for a tiny second. Her smile is sweet. Not flirtatious. "I'll need it."

**X**

Floria climbs onto the table in the St. Jude's courtyard, where Bryn and Steven sit for lunch. Eating onion rings and smoking cigarettes. He finally got the privilege after proving to Bryn that he'd never touch another joint by staying sober for three weeks and embarrassing himself in a game of hopscotch.

Steven takes a drag of his cigarette and lifts an onion ring. "Mornin', Flory." he greets and Bryn smiles, returning to the book in her lap. Floria and she may be friends but their friendship was ruined when Bryn betrayed them for another band that was nothing like family. "I can finally smoke, y'know. But only like two to three sticks a day."

Bryn flips a page and dimples mark her smirk. "Be lucky I left you with that." she answers and takes a drag of her own cigarette, blowing smoke rings in his direction. "You just dodged a bullet when you were in that disgusting hospital."

He laughs and grabs her shoulders, yanking her into him for a hug. "Aw. Quit talking about my house!"

She wiggles out of his grip and gives him an onion ring. "If it was, you wouldn't be able to eat food like this _ever_."

"Yeah, man. No more Burger King." Floria agrees and looks over Bryn, who's still locked on the book. She wouldn't ever bring her wrongs to view. She wasn't like Hayden. And she turns to the studded cufflink bracelet on Bryn's wrist and grins. She'd gotten Bryn that so long ago. It was probably what started her leather fetish. "Nice bracelet, Jett."

At the nickname, Bryn shuts her book. "You're the one who got it for me." she replies and there's the slightest bit of gratefulness. "What's up? We've haven't spoken since forever."

Finishing off his onion ring, Steven nods. "Can't even call her, bitch?"

Giggles escape Floria and Bryn leans to dig her boot into Steven's thigh, he winces and narrows his eyes before massaging fingers about his leg. A lot happened since their band had broken up. Hayden had been working on a new all-girl band, which began and _ended _terribly. She met an amazingly attractive man when she snuck out for lunch, and so far is attempting to rebuild her friendship with Bryn.

She chose to answer this simply. "Same old, same old. _Soooo_ what's today's topic of discussion?"

Another nod from Steven. "We were talking about the stoned Megan Fox-chick and Bryn's fat ass."

She laughs and Bryn drops the onion ring she was ready to eat. "I do _not _have a fat ass." she claims and frowns. Floria's smile grows. "You were complaining to me the other day how you couldn't fit into your jeans! I'm on a diet, believe it or not."

He stubs his cigarette. "Cheeseburgers and beer are not part of a diet. Look at Floria. She's flesh and bone. I already told you I didn't fit into my pants yesterday because I had a –"

"Alright, Steven, no! _No_!" Bryn screams, plugging her ears. "I don't need to hear about your … _story_ again. It already grossed me the hell out the first time."

Floria smirks to hide laughter. "What exactly happened in this _story_?"

Steven opens his mouth to speak but Bryn cuts him off with a narrow of eyes. She clenches a fist and holds it up menacingly. "Don't you dare." she snarls and grits her teeth. "I will _kill_ you."

"What's so bad about it?"

"Let's just say it involves cheerleaders in tank tops, a sprinkler, and –"

"Don't say it!" Bryn yells and throws her cigarette at him. "Don't!"

He holds his palms forward in defense and flicks her cigarette, smiling over how easily she became disgusted. He doesn't necessarily attempt to but whatever he said usually bothered Bryn. It was pretty hilarious.

"Yeah, seriously, don't." Floria responds and pushes the plate away to see the book Bryn was just reading: a guitar manual. "Why do you need that, anyway? You're practically a champ."

"My music teacher wanted me to review this because a new kid will be starting in January and I get to teach him for extra cred because he sucks and I have to tell him all there is to know." she explains. "Even I haven't read some of this stuff. You learn a lot when you read." She turns to Steven and arches a brow.

"What?" he asks, raising his own brow. "I _read_."

Floria playfully kicks Steven's ribs with her pointy boot. "Playboy doesn't count."

Bryn rolls her eyes. "Yeeeeah, because everyone reads for the articles."

"I beg to differ."

Floria spun around but Steven and Bryn continued with what they were doing. Bryn taking drags and Steven staring up at the sky, strands of his hair caught the daylight and made it look like gold yarn. A perfectly arched brow furrows as Floria stares in amazement at who stands before them.

Blonde hair, green eyes, aristocratic jawline. Javier Dominguez.

She never met him but learnt he attended their first performance at Rodney's with a stripper. Matt later told her he flirted with Bryn in her Lila-ensemble though failed in getting her to his room because she blew him off and fled to a friend's house.

Bryn was far from invincible.

He shoves his knuckles into his pockets and strides for Bryn, occupying the seat beside her and not bothering to sit on the table like them. "The guys who actually look away from the centerfold models read the articles though they're quite boring." He reaches for Bryn's waist. He's pleased when she doesn't pull away. She appears used to his antics when he easily brings her into his lap, she digs her heels into him but he only brings his mouth to her ear. "But when you have the Cherry Bomb, you can live without."

She scowls and undoes his fingers from her waist. "Quit it." she murmurs and narrows her eyes. "We aren't _dating_."

With a smirk, he counters. "Who says we need to? We've done much more than normal couples already."

She looks away and climbs out of his arms, sliding into the seat across him, careful to not give him a free-show up her skirt. "You're goddamn annoying."

"I'll take that as a compliment for today but I came to ask you something." he clarifies and suddenly his smirk weakens and his eyes are serious. They narrow and the smoldering greens seem to strengthen.

"If the question involves sex of any kind, the answer is a resounding no."

Steven dissolves into hysterics and Floria cracks a smile, looking away to smother its broadening. Javier also smiles despite himself. He's used to Bryn's persona and almost seemed immune to her by now.

"That wasn't the question." he objects and moves in for her hand. She meets his promising eyes and cocks a confused eyebrow, a nervous smile quirking on. "I was going to ask if you wanted to go to Claire's year-ending gala with me."

Her shoulders slump in relief and her smile widens into a smirk as she pulls her hand from his. "No, thanks."

Steven collapses against their bags, muffling the extremities of his laughter. "Ha! Rejected!"

In some weird way, she actually feels bad when the smirk typically frozen on his face falls. Her lashes lower, leaving eyelids to view before she parts her lips to exhale a wispy river of smoke. "Chill. I'll go with you, Dominguez. Just _relax_. I don't need to see tears now."

He chuckles, then slowly smirks. "I wasn't going to. I was going to forget you but good thing you accepted. Now, I don't have to go with one of Claire's minions."

"Yes, I'm a lifesaver." she advises and crosses her legs fluidly but leans back when Javier attempts a kiss. "Nope, save it for the dance. Then, you can kiss me all you want."

He stands, dusting off his pants. "I'll hold you to that. But, sadly, have to leave. I have to prepare for Claire's gala since she's being extremely strict over the dress-code. See you then, Blackwell."

Bryn salutes his retreating form and suddenly Steven jumps off the table, nearly falling headfirst. He stands and throws his cigarette aside. "Shit, that reminds me!" he exclaims and suspiciously glances all around before he meets Floria's confusion. "Flor, thank God, you're still here! I was wondering if you'd like to go … um, to the dance with me?"

Floria smiles nicely. "Sure, Steven."

He beams like a child and rumples Bryn's hair before running off, howling like a lunatic as he disappears. Bryn crosses her arms and keeps her smirk, looking back to Floria with narrow eyes. She flashes her eyes in Steven's direction while managing to keep her laughter controlled.

"Good luck with that."

"Pray for me. Please."

**X**

Tinsley arrives in the field, where Harper is with the lacrosse team. He adjusts his glove and the team scatters throughout the field, positioned at the bases and the back-gate while Harper takes place on the pitcher's mount, throwing the ball between hands. He erects his stance and clenches the ball before throwing it to someone with a metal bat. The ball soars and Harper smiles proudly. It doesn't once meet the dirt when Harper catches the ball in his mitt.

A boy grins. "Nice job, Harper!"

Harper smiles and nods at the dugout. "Thanks. Who's next? We have to have a quick game before Mr. Harmon comes back. Let's have a good one, alright?"

Both sides erupt in cheers while Tinsley smiles from afar, careful to stay away from oncoming swings before approaching. They pause so they don't harm a girl and it felt good to hear they knew who she was but not for the right reasons.

They murmur of the STD rumor Vena spread and some even talk of her misadventures in boarding school. It was almost like guys only seem to remember the worst things because she's achieved so much. She was a student with A's and B's that were not given by doing wrong things with teachers.

Harper didn't seem to notice her presence despite the others having left the field for joints and meager school lunches. He did once the baseball fell and he went for it, looking down to see not only his ball but Tinsley also.

He snags his ball and his fingers quiver as he smiles dazzlingly. "Hey, Tinsley, what's up?" he greets and tosses the ball back to someone else.

"Oh, nothing," she replies with the same casualty. "Just thought I'd come see you, if it's alright. You seem to be a _little_ busy."

He shakes his head and removes his glove. "No, it's cool. We're taking a break. Just having some fun before our coach gets back."

She nods and is confused. Why wasn't he bringing up the dance? Wasn't he going? Practically all guys knew by now. Claire announced it awhile back. He should've been there or could've at least heard everyone's preparations.

"Well, that's nice." she answers and Harper nods after cracking his knuckles. "Oh, did you hear of Claire's bash? It's happening soon. Everyone's preparing."

For a moment, he stops and points his gaze at the sky. Surely enough, he nods in the direction of the huddled guys. "Yeah, they've been talking about it nonstop. I'm not stressing on who to ask because I don't necessarily care. Claire's parties come and go, y'know."

Tinsley raises a brow. "What if _I _went with you?"

He lifts his shoulders carelessly before sliding his glove back on. "Cool, I guess."

"You _guess_?" she repeats and can't mask her frustration. How could he act so carefree all of a sudden? Was he trying to play hard to get or only trying to act manly around the guys? She most certainly didn't want to ask Bryn for assistance. No matter how much she needed to. "Look, I have to go. I have to help Claire prepare for the ball you apparently don't care enough to take me or anyone to."

He shakes his head and frowns, wiping his forehead. "I didn't mean it like that."

She doesn't bother looking back, leaving him, blocking him out. "I'm pretty sure you did."

He doesn't go after her and she doesn't want him to.

The jeers from the guys are painful enough.

**X**

"Look, man, I don't really find it wrong that you're hanging with Vena and all." Dean says as he carries a crate of supplies for Claire's gala through the corridors of The Empire. "I'm not gonna stop you because if you like her, you can do whatever. I'm just saying be careful because she isn't exactly trustworthy."

Matt is silent but nods as he lifts a keg, shifting uncomfortably as he walks with the utmost care. "Tinsley and Bryn told me the same thing." he says and bites the inside of his cheek. "Vena's as trustworthy as they get. She hasn't really said anything truly terrible, only that she doesn't favor the idea of Tinsley and Bryn as friends."

Dean raises a brow and they linger in the foyer. "Weird. They seem like pretty good friends. They're always together and all. I don't necessarily see a problem with it."

"Well, when they first met Bryn stubbed her cigarette on her." Matt clarifies with a chuckle at recalling the story Bryn happily told them all. Dean's eyes bug though he also chuckles, setting the crate on the marble while Claire barks out instructions. "That was about it. I think she only did it as a warning but Tinsley ignored it and Bryn somehow manages to deal with her now."

"Somehow, someway," Dean mumbles and pulls open the crate with a crowbar on the wall, cracking the wood to receive colorful streamers and ribbons from inside. Perfect for something like the Snowflake Ball. "Just look out for Vena. She's tricky."

"Hurry it up! Hurry up!" Claire demands as helpers climb ladders to hang decorations and clean the chandeliers. "We have to make this a night to remember! Don't screw up here, people!" A woman carries in a wild cluster of yellow tulips and Claire fumes. "No yellow tulips! Only blue and ivory roses! What does this look like? Candyland?"

After a few quieter minutes, Tinsley enters, looking exhausted. She approaches Claire and smiles, tucking strands behind her ears. Her eyes betray an idea of heartbrokenness but she succeeds to hide it in a smile.

"Sorry I'm late, Claire." she apologizes. "I have a lot going on."

To surprise, Claire doesn't seem to mind. They were best friends, after all. The anger in her eyes softens and she regains herself by placing a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry." she assures and her voice is gentle. "Just get to preparing flowers and throw out any wilted ones you find. These florists are _horrid_."

Tinsley giggles. "Sure, sure," Her expression lightens. "You shouldn't worry. You seem more stressed than anyone here."

Claire nods and heads past Dean and Matt, Tinsley in tow. "Yes, I know. Some idiot sent an invitation to Vena and I can only wonder what … dumbass did that." She glances over Matt as he hands snowflake ornaments to one of Claire's bees. "Probably him. He's Vena's only friend."

Tinsley cranes her neck see Matt. He doesn't notice her eyes but Dean does. "I don't think so. Matt likes her but he'd never spite you."

"I'm surprised you know his name. He's pretty downhill to me." Claire rearranges bouquets in the marble halls. "Always with that drug addict, he's always smoking, _and _smells like pot. A lucky lady deserves him."

"Well, I kinda like him. And he doesn't smoke pot anymore." Tinsley admits and looks around suspiciously when she speaks. She looks away from Claire's astonishment. "He's nice, polite, handsome, and if he wasn't with Vena I would've liked to go with him, too. He's good, Claire."

The queen bee smirks. "Apparently so, if he caught your eye so easily."

"We've known each other since Vena's big bang. You'd be the same, if you knew Dean just as long." she reassures. "You have to get to know him."

Claire shakes her hair and throws dead roses to the marble and looks back to Tinsley. "No, thanks. I don't find any reason to like him. You're better off, I guess. Dean is more to my favor."

Tinsley smiles and chucks the roses in the trash. "You know, you're actually good, Claire."

She laughs. "Never let anyone know that, Tinsley. Or else, I'll rip your head from your shoulders."

And from the end of the hall, Dean cocks an attentive brow and walks off.

**X**

Floria throws furrowed dresses onto Bryn's charcoal bedspread from inside her walk-in closet, reeking of bubblegum and cigarettes. Harper, disappointed in himself, cradles his head in his hands. Bryn observes each dress. Satins, silks, laces, girly things that her mother bought while in Europe. Bryn has never worn them. They were much too showy for her with their pastel colors and sashes. The thought of wearing a floral pink dress made her want to puke.

Bryn walks to her brother and runs her fingers through his hair and choppy bangs. Her hands linger and her thick lashes lower, a smile forms. She was never good at comforting anyone but him. Maybe because he was her twin and they had some secret connection their father always told them of. He always did drink too much … "Oh, Harper, _povero ragazzo_. Tinsley will be fine. What'd you say to make her so upset?"

He looks up at her and catches her wrist before releasing her hand. "She asked if I wanted to go with her to the dance and I said it'd be cool, I guess." He sighs and shakes his head, punishing himself more than needed. "It was _that _bad, Bryn."

She sighs and pats his cheek before walking over to Floria. "You really need to learn more about girls, Harper. I hate to agree but that's terrible." Floria replies and rips a dress off a hanger, holding it in front of her. Bryn's eyes turn to her instantly. "How would this look? I'm pretty lost on the whole thing." Bryn inspects the dress. The light green did wonders for her eyes but it was scanty, considering how it barely touched the thigh. Why the hell did she even have that thing?

She shakes her head. "Too short, too slutty," Bryn responds and Floria shrugs, tossing it aside before pulling open a drawer and fishing out a familiar corset. Harper luckily didn't notice the skimpy top because of his daze. "Talk about slutty, ugh. Can't believe I wore that. Put it away, don't let him see."

Floria chuckles and does as told, pulling out another dress from the same drawer and holding it to herself. It was obsidian black and sunk to the floor in a puddle of satin. She never wore it and remembers she brought it for Hayden. The girl had rudely declined it and Bryn threw it aside.

"That's pretty cool. You should wear that." she comments and turns to her sibling as he looks out the window to where the sun peeks out from big clouds. "Harper, just go get her already."

"I don't know where she is," he murmurs and his shoulders slump. "I'd be lucky enough to find flowers."

"Steven didn't give me flowers." Floria admits and Bryn laughs. "I was lucky he asked me out in the first place. Sober, no less."

"Def, man. I didn't get flowers either. I'm lucky Javier didn't full-force kiss me in the courtyard."

"Secretly, you know you would've enjoyed it."

"Oh, of course."

They laugh and Harper scowls and looks away. Bryn rolls her eyes and heads to her desk, where a litter of music sheets and a jug of roses were laid. She carelessly removes the roses and thrusts the bunch in her brother's unsuspecting hands.

He looks up and her smile doesn't stray. "She should be leaving The Empire now. There's your flowers. Get 'em, _Romeo_."

Stumbling and all, Harper is out the door, leaving behind two laughing girls.

**X**

And as Tinsley exits The Empire after finished groundwork for Claire's ball, she looks for a non-speeding taxi. Raising her arm to hail one and smiling to how her day finished. She'd decided on a good dress and heels Claire helped pick. She'd look beautiful and even if Harper didn't go. So what? She had friends. Bryn and Javier, Claire and Dean, _Matt _–

The screech of the cab's tires sting her ears as it reaches her. She opens the door, ready to leave. Someone's familiar boy voice cuts her right out of mind and she gasps into her palm.

"Tinsley, wait!"

She whips around, pulling hair out of her face and down her back in a waterfall of honey. She sees Harper, sneaker laces dragging across the pavement and roses dangling from his knuckles, an enthusiastic grin marks his cheeks. He reaches her and hands her the bouquet of ruined flowers, halting to catch his breath.

"Would you like to accompany me to the dance, Miss Hastings?"

She can't hide her grin and bobs her head cheerfully. They lean in and her arms link around his neck as they lock in an affectionate embrace. The cab drives off and she doesn't care as they don't care to unlock their kiss. The man beats lights and she couldn't give two damns. All she wants is Harper.

Two women watch from down the block, a petite brunette with a ruby ring and a tall blonde with gleaming blue eyes.

The blonde smiles and her shoulders lift in a sweet sigh. "Isn't that cute, B?"

The brunette rolls her eyes and struts for their car. "I've seen cuter, S."

But she can hardly hide her smile.

**X**

**I hope you all enjoy this chapter, the next one I'm pretty sure you'll definitely love. **

**And I wanted to say a new character will be appearing soon, one I just received and have plenty planned for. ;)**

**So enjoy this chapter and I hope you all love it!**


	13. Chapter 13

_A leather jacket was thrown into the arms of a flustered girl_._ She glanced at her boyfriend with wide eyes_. _It_ _was still meaningful_._ He focused on a choker of dripping diamonds on her satin bedspread_._ He was always awed by the jewels her family maintained_._ Diamonds and pearls weren_'_t necessarily valuable but that certain necklace was close to her world because it_'_d been previously owned by her father_'_s late mother and after much persuading_,_ he_'_d given it to her as a birthday present_._ She loved seeing each crystal shimmer_.

_But when she was with him_,_ no jewel could compare to her feelings_._ She felt intensity she never held for any other_._ Could this be love_?_ This fast_?_ She was only fifteen and they were only dating for four months_._ No one accepted him_:_ her father despised him_,_ her brother found him unpleasant_,_ and even Claire disliked him_.

_They were just jealous_._ They never understood love even if they_'_d seen it with their own eyes. Like they were so obviously blind_.

_She threw her thoughts aside and held the jacket to him timidly. _"_David_,_ this is your favorite_._ Why would you give it to me_?_ You_'_ve had it for so long_."_ she breathed and noticed the corners of his mouth rise, his eyes smoldered like wildfire. "What_'_s so funny_?_ Was it something I said_?"

_David shook his head and with his fingertips_,_ he smoothes strands away from his girlfriend's face_."_Nah_,_ you just amusing_."_ he replied and tucked a lock behind her ear_._ She smiled and didn_'_t brush him off rudely like she should've. _"_I want you to have it because I got us tickets to see Joan Jett tonight_."

_She gaped broadly and her eyebrows arched before she returned her gaze to the jacket in her hands_,_ nails tracing the rips in the sleeves and the studs aligning the collar_. "_Well_,_ um_,_ that_'_s nice_."_ she commented and felt her cheeks warm. _"_But I don_'_t have an outfit pressed and I need to finish my homework and I hate to say but I don't exactly know who Joan Jett is_."

_He stepped away_,_ hand retreating from hers as he held up an index finger_,_ smirk never falling_. "_Ah_,_ ah_,_ ah_,_ you said you wanna be a rebel, right_?"_ he asked and she reluctantly nodded. _"_Good answer_._ The first rule of bein' one is no need to get your clothes ironed_._ You ain_'_t supposed to care about what you wear_._ Just throw on a shirt and jacket and you_'_re good to go_."

"_Um_,_ okay_."_ she replied and went for her closet_,_ reappearing with a plain tee and jeans_. "_Is this good_?"

_David nodded and neither smile drifted_. "_Perfect_."_ He snagged his tattered jacket and tossed it_._ She caught it_,_ this time with ease. _"_Hurry and change_. _We gotta ditch before your bro gets back_."

_Her eyelids fluttered in confusion_. "_Why_?_ I think he_'_ll get worried if we_'_re gone_._ We might even get in trouble_."

_He stole her hand and pressed his mouth to her palm_,_ his smirk reappeared as his lips lingered_. "_The point_,_ doll_."

_She giggled and reached to kiss her boyfriend_,_ their lips met in a collision of what she thought was passion_.

_Her eyelids flickered and her fingertips grazed his square jaw_._ Through that_,_ he cracked open an eye and though he doesn_'_t part from her_,_ his fingers reached across her mattress to unclasp a gem from her priceless necklace_.

**X**

"What were you thinking about?"

Bryn cranes back and clutches the torn clasp in her palms before smiling. She withdraws each ornament of the old necklace into her jewelry box and shuts it. Blue eyes narrowing amusingly when she notices how different he looked for the occasion but she couldn't talk because she'd also switched up her usual standards.

Her brother slicked his hair back and the look made the blues in his eyes pop. His eyebrows rose and he posed a weak smile. Women fawned over that sultry look. He always looked great when he went out especially today in a fitted suit and black tie.

She shakes her head and stands, erecting posture in a smile, hers matching his. "Just about our fifteenth year." she admits and his smile falls, his eyebrows furrow and denting frowns ruin it. "Sorry, it's just been on my mind a lot lately." She adjusts the sleeve of her one-shouldered white dress and spun their father's wedding band around her thumb.

"Well, don't let it." he tells her and she could practically feel the venom. "We're supposed to have fun tonight. Let David be farthest from your mind." He places a hand on her forearm and his smile returns. "Relax, okay? And if Javier does anything to hurt you, I'll gladly kick his ass."

She giggles and punches his bicep. "I'll beat you to the punch this time around."

This time, he chuckles and the glow in his eyes brighten. "I know that's true." he replies. "But I have to go early, I'm gonna get Tinsley. You don't mind waiting out here for a while, right?"

"Not today. I'm goin' to spend most of the night thinking, anyway."

They leave her room and she takes her leather jacket off the brass doorknob, shutting the door. "It better not be about David."

"It's not. So no need to worry, young brother." she responds causing his brow to rise. "Chill."

"Fine." he answers strictly and nods as they reach the entrance of their house. He unlocks the door, allowing twilight colors to spill in. "And in addition, I'm older." He stands in the doorway and keeps his smile though it weakens. "Just be careful and call me if anything."

"Sure, sure, back at 'cha." Bryn chimes, pushing him out the door. "Don't keep Tinsley waiting."

Harper looks at her before Bryn tosses him keys. "Have fun but not too much." she says and her words resemble an officer. "We don't need any Harper Juniors running around here."

He laughs casually and pockets his keys. "I don't plan on being that wild. I'm not you." he jokes and she smirks. "I'll see you later."

She waves with fake cheerfulness and with another laugh, he disappears out the door.

She doesn't watch him leave and shuts the door, grabs a cigarette off the piano top and observes it, keen eyes inspecting every angle. To her surprise, she doesn't light it and only throws it aside, hoping Harper won't find it because he sometimes chastised when she left cigarettes around the house.

For some reason, she really didn't care today. She usually did whatever people expected her to. Today, she just didn't feel like it. She could do whatever she desired and no one could do anything about it.

Those chains of obedience no longer bounded her. She didn't have to obey anyone anymore. She's Bryn Blackwell.

And when you are, you could do whatever the hell you want.

**X**

"That's finished? Good. And so is that? Better." Claire compliments and took slow steps in her Jimmy Choos, strappy gold ribbons tied at her ankles as she crosses the cold marble. Her gold taffeta dress fans around her legs and dons a low neckline, pearly bangles shook as she flicks her wrists countlessly at the staff. "I'm quite pleased with how this turned out, even through my volunteers' incompetence."

From the side, a few of Claire's minions, respectively dressed, clear their throats loudly and cough into their palms. Being what she assumed a great queen, she ignores them. Her eyes flit to one of the sprays of flowers on the ice sculpture, cream-and-lavender calla lilies held in the hands of the angel, its icy silhouette arched gracefully. Silver, leafless, tree objects surround the venue and dangling from the ceiling is a brilliant chandelier that spills light like falling snow. The resident bee smiles in resignation.

Her work is flawless and if it wasn't for her excellent instruction, none of this would have been made possible.

She accepts a flute of champagne from a waiter in a white bowtie and trousers. Though it seemed exceptionally appealing, she wanted to concentrate on making the gala grand due to her last one in October and Vena's antics the event was a failure.

Embarrassingly enough, she even engaged in a catfight with her, which ended as a live feed on Gossip Bee's blog.

There aren't even words to describe how _terrible _that was.

"Hey, Claire," Dean calls and strides over in a silver suit, tumbler of vodka in hand. He touches her forearm and the vise grip she held on her glass weakens. "Tense?"

She nods and tips her head back to drink. Screw it. "Just a bit." she breathes, enjoying the warm fluttering it gave her. "As long as that … _monstrosity_ Vena doesn't come to sabotage anything I'll be fine because I actually put real effort into preparing."

Dean smiles, dimples stain his cheekbones. "It's surprising to know you didn't care much for the last one after all the work you put into it." His fingers drop from caressing her arm and he takes a thoughtful sip of his vodka, letting the liquid travel down his throat. "You're usually so dedicated."

"I was planning on staying true to my previous … _party _but everything got so out of hand." Claire admits and swishes her champagne around in its sparkling glass. "There was no use of saving it but this will surely be great, especially with the doubled security. Vena doesn't have a chance in hell at ruining this." Dean's smile widens and slowly her own arises. "And can it be any better? It's at _the _Empire!"

He chuckles and much to his surprise, a few giggles escape Claire. Who would've ever thought our queen bee laughed at anything other than demise?

A few attendees begin entering, all dressed as extravagantly as their hostess, donning pretty jewels at their wrists and throats, swathed in gorgeous silks and laces, and their hair in their finest 'dos.

"Wow, you did a great job, Claire." A girl with fake-blonde hair in a French twist says. "You should definitely be a party planner or something!"

Claire nods. "Thank you." The girl lumbers away and she looks back at Dean, her flush hidden in the dim lights. "And I really owe it to you too, Dean."

He blinks and drains his vodka quietly before handing his glass to a waiter. "Um, why?"

"Because." she says, as if that answers it. Dean's eyebrows lift higher and her smile is frozen as she rotates on her heel, craning her neck to look back. "Just because."

And she walks away, leaving questions as usual.

He shakes his head and from across the room, Claire meets his eyes and they share a secret smile while she mingles. There was something in their smiles, something explosive and almost romantic in that bittersweet, Upper East Side way.

It was almost meant to be.

Although it felt weird to admit, it also felt pretty damn good.

_Because_. _Just because_.

**X**

Tinsley slides into the plush leather of Harper's limo as the driver shuts the door behind her. Harper is silent for a few moments and the blues of his eyes smolder in a smile. He leans over and his personal scent follows – cologne, nice soap, and … _him_. It felt good for the night. He was hers and she was his.

They belonged together and no one could change that. Vena couldn't interfere, Claire, Bryn, their parents …

Though none of them didn't necessarily care.

She smiles at Harper when he stays in her eyes, fingers smoothing creases, eyes soft. "You look beautiful." he murmurs and observes the dress that clung to her curves, her blonde hair high in a ponytail that flows down her back like loose gold yarn. "Honestly, you do."

Claire said he gave the best compliments.

"Thanks," she responds and slides towards him, fingertips brushing his knees. "You don't look bad yourself. You don't look bad at all."

Harper chuckles and looks away, fingers caressing her define cheekbones. "You sure give compliments. You must've been a great girlfriend."

The car was moving now and she knew they were nearing Claire's gala due to the flashbulbs glowing through the tinted windows.

But Harper spoiled her so much. It didn't even feel like the world was revolving anymore.

"You're probably the only one who thinks that." she replies, shoulders slumping, his hand slowly falls from her face to grip her shoulder. "I wasn't too … nice long ago."

"Do tell." he adds after a moment, sounding like a middle-aged man rather than a teenager. "It would be nice to know more about you,"

She opens her mouth and suddenly felt the words died beyond her lips. She closes her mouth and tightens her lips. She wanted to tell him everything but the thought of his reaction brought fear into her. Who knows what would happen? Bryn always said he tended to overreact and if she told him about her past, he'd probably never speak to her again.

"I'll tell you about myself if you tell me about yourself." she told him with a sultry eyebrow raised. "Sound fair?"

"Yeah, fair enough," he agrees and retreats his hand to his tie when he notices they were nearing The Empire. Bright flashbulbs and camera clicks erupt in the night sky and shine through the windows, grabbing glimpses of them. The driver unlocks their doors and Tinsley puts her hand on the door before looking back at Harper, who keeps his gaze focused on her. "Are you ready to have the time of your life at Jurassic Park?"

Tinsley giggles and slides away from the door to Harper. "You're something else you know that?" she asks and places a hand on his forearm. "You truly are."

The flashes brighten fiercer, the car comes to a halt and Tinsley's fingertips touch the door again, irises glimmering. Though she doesn't say anything at first, she can't help but stay in his eyes. Drowning through the deep pools that they were.

Their faces close, foreheads nearly touching, lips inches apart – so close they could practically feel each other's rush breaths, warm with taste.

They could only wonder what would happen if they kissed again.

But they didn't.

Their locked gazes split apart and Tinsley reaches for the door. Someone immediately nabs her arm and when she turns, Harper's lips met hers and he leans over her as they passionately embrace.

Inside a limo. Where all great things happen.

And some things you just would've never expected.

**X**

Javier strode up the cobblestones leading to the Blackwell Mansion. He never really entered the place, mostly because Bryn has spent her time at his and witnessing the estate in person seems almost unreal or rather expected. Just from the outside, you can see how much wealth is bestowed upon the family. The grass in the backyard is clean and neat hedges sprout growing buds. The windows on the higher floors are ornate with colorful mosaics, the entrance doors are wide. Once he finishes the path, he went to ring the bell – a musical chime rang through the villa and after a few seconds …

"Door's open!"

He raises a brow and turns the closest knob, entering in silence, eying the interior that can outmatch any five-star hotel. Painted portraits of what he assumes are the Blackwells' ancestors hung along the walls; a grand piano sits near a window that held an exquisite view of a small garden. A few pictures in silver frames reside on the tables, a flight of carpeted stairs ran up the next floor and noisy rustling is heard from above.

Yet no Bryn in sight.

Who let him in, then?

"Sorry, sorry!" A voice calls from the stairs and he looks to see Bryn hurrying down, clenching her leather jacket by a sleeve, a Bluetooth carefully tucked in her hair. She looks to Javier, the pitch in her voice suddenly gone in her next words. "One of my father's old business associates called for every reason unknown. Can you stay down here for about a minute or two longer? This is kinda important."

He shakes his head and smiles. "Don't worry about it. Go finish your call. I'll be waiting for you, Princess." Bryn rolls her eyes and laughs before she disappears down a corridor, speaking in fluid Italian on the line, her voice accenting on every few words.

His smile leaves once he can no longer see her and he approaches a table that held a dozen picture frames. Images of Bryn and Harper mostly surround the table – Bryn holding up a guitar as a child, Harper on his father's shoulders as a kid, their father at his desk, one of Claire, and one in a gleaming frame of an unrecognizable couple on their wedding day, hands clasped and eyes shimmering.

The woman had dark gold hair in an intricate bun, pale blonde highlights and sprays of cream pearls and ornamental diamonds formed a jeweled halo at her crown. A translucent veil clouded her face and that couldn't even hide her smile. She wore a gorgeous wedding gown that flowed behind her with a grand ivory train, two silk straps knotted at the crook of her neck with sapphires at her throat. On her arm was her husband, who wore a much brighter smile, his hair slicked back, and a tuxedo in perfect place.

They looked like a true couple. What a miracle it was for someone to find their match.

Javier continues staring, eyes narrow. He lifts the frame, making sure to use care as he observes the woman. She looked a lot like Harper with the blonde hair and even shared the blue eyes the twins shared. Who was she? She looked familiar somehow.

"That's my mother." Bryn says and comes down the hall and over to him. She stops at his side and gives the photo a quick glance before lowering her eyes to the other displayed photographs across the table. "And her new husband. They've been married … a year and a few months now." He places the frame back in its place and looks over her. She appears collected when talking about her family but he sees something odd in her eyes.

Emptiness.

"Do you like her new husband?" he questions and places his palm in the curve of her back. She doesn't flinch away like he expected, only leans in.

"He's alright, I guess," She shrugs and pursues her lips. "I find him much more tolerable than my mother. I wonder how he could deal with her sometimes … he really loves her." Her eyelids flutter and her mascaraed lashes caress the tops of her cheekbones. "But he's just too young, my … father thought so, too."

"How young can someone be? What is it … two? Three years?" he inquires and looks to see her smile secretly, a faint laugh. "You're making me feel stupid. Five? Six? How far apart could they be?"

She cranes her neck to look up at him, smirk in place. "My mother's forty-six. Her husband just turned twenty-two."

He can't help but chuckle and looks at her, wide-eyed. "Are you serious? That's … something. What did you think of that particular wedding, Blackwell? Your mother certainly made a beautiful bride but I'm sure you looked even better in your Doc Martens and leather pants."

"I didn't go." she stats and removes the Bluetooth. "I didn't want to, so I didn't. Harper did so you could always ask him but weddings just aren't my thing. Tony wanted me to go but I skipped and the least I could've done was respect my mother's wishes so I did."

"What do you mean _respect her wishes_? Wouldn't she have wanted you there? You are her only daughter after all."

Bryn shrugs again and this time it's more casual. "She doesn't like me much. She admitted a few harsh things to my face before but I don't really care. We were never really close."

His hands linger on her hips. "I'm sorry." he apologizes and it's probably the first time he has ever offered his apology and meant it.

She removes his hand and turns to him, smiling, almost like she wasn't bothered at all by talking about something so personal – which she probably wasn't.

"You don't have to say sorry, okay?" she responds and glances at another picture of Harper at his championship lacrosse game looking as athletic as always. "Like I said, it doesn't bother me. I bet if you meet her one day you'll probably see why."

He presses his palm to her, cradling her face in his hands. "You're definitely the rebel of the Upper East Side."

She doesn't force his hand off, narrows her eyes. "And you're the playboy of the Upper East Side. Now, what?"

The blonde smirks. "I'm glad you realize that because I always get what I want." His fingers lower to caress the outline of her jaw and she finally pushes his hand off to pull on her jacket. Sprinkles of snow fall from the twilight sky, clinging to the cobblestones. "And I want _you_."

Bryn smirks and rolls her eyes. "Yes and I want an endless supply of cigarettes but we can't all get what we want." She playfully hits his bicep and curls her fingers up his arm before taking him to the door. "Come on, Romeo, we're not missing this. I actually wanna see what Claire's been bragging about all this time."

**X**

"Oh, Claire!" Vena chimes, milking fake cheeriness when she dashes for Claire in black lace booties. Her legs veiled in fishnets and dark hair drowning her back. Her dress is coal black and just above her knees, being strapless and having a low back. She looks like a black swan lost in a crowd of white ducks. When she came to Claire, she grabs her hands and brings the other girl close. "You look great! I can't believe it! What's that dress, anyway? Valentino? Marc Jacobs?"

Claire forces a smile and slides out of Vena's grasp, avoiding a scene and a rip in her dress. "Reem Acra. I'm not exactly a hugging person so _don_'_t _do that again." She narrows her eyes at the seductress. "Anyway," She waits until Matt distances, the musician in a maroon tuxedo and thin tie. He actually looked decent for once. "Who exactly invited you? Because I'm certain the selfish bitch wasn't on the list."

"Actually, darling, Matt Stradlin did." she claims and directs a hand to where he accepts a flute of red wine from a waitress. "You may know him. Remember the wannabe punk who earned his first kiss from our Tinsley?"

Claire grits her teeth and says nothing. Vena smirks winningly and heads toward her date as she reaches him, she stands on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

Not wanting to see anymore, Claire returns to mingle and Vena gazes up at Matt, her lashes deepen and her eyes contrast in the lights. "I'm glad you let me on your arm tonight, I've never felt so lucky."

Matt shakes his head. "Don't worry about it." he assures. "It's cool to come wit someone good-looking."

"Thank you, love." she murmurs and brushes her fingertips along his jaw. "But I must tell you something, it's _very _important." She looks around suspiciously and snatches Matt's wrist, leading him through the crowd and stopping once she sees no one they knew. "You're close to Tinsley, aren't you?"

"Um, yeah, I guess you could say that." he answers, unsure of Vena's suspicions. "Why?"

"I would say no reason but that doesn't quite cut it." she admits and raises her shoulders. "Tinsley's been against us and she's done enough to nearly set my home on fire. She's brutal. She was never a good person even when we were friends. I just want to give you my warning, I don't want her to hurt you. I love you too much." Matt's eyes narrow and he nods cautiously, partially trusting her. He'd always known Tinsley and she has never done anything _that _bad but had she changed now that she was with Harper?

"Alright, I'll heed your advice." he voices. "Let's just not worry about anything. It's New Year's - all you need to care about tonight are your resolutions and who you're going to kiss at midnight."

A seductive brow arches. "I have my eye on somebody."

She wasn't exactly showing him the honesty he wanted.

"We shouldn't worry about these trivial things anyway, we have so much time." Vena chimes and giggles quake her but to her surprise, Matt doesn't join in and she quickly cuts off. "If you don't mind, may I go fix my makeup? I'll have to make it impeccable for midnight after all."

The shag-donning guitarist lifts his shoulders in a shrug. "Whatever."

Vena manages with her fury as she weaves through the attendees and once out of Matt's sight, she activates her cell phone, dialing her speed dial. She presses the phone to her ear and keeps her place in a half-empty corridor, hiding herself behind a pot of hydrangeas.

"Took you long enough." she sneers. "Let's cut to the chase, do you have the PCP?"

The person on the line speaks and the bad connection crackles. Her lips rise in an achieved smirk and she nods. "Good," she says, lowering her voice. "I'll be right out."

And from afar, a confused Steven scratches his scalp questioningly while keeping his eyes focused on the menace. "Weird." he mumbles and smiles, dimples thick in his cheekbones. "She is _definitely _on the meth."

**X**

Dean hands Floria a flute of scotch. "Aren't you supposed to be dancing with your partner?" he asks, looking around for Steven, who is nowhere to be seen. He straightens his tie and chuckles when Floria rolls her eyes. "Or did he go off to find himself a nonalcoholic drink? The poor guy's been making himself suffer without a decent daiquiri."

"He still wants to keep his promise with Bryn since he nearly killed himself two months ago." Floria stats and tucks a curl behind an ear, hair in a braided bun. She sports a midnight black dress that sunk to the floor and a cord of black diamonds. "When Steven does something, he sticks to it and he's not much of a dancer as he is a singer."

"I don't think _not much_ occurs in Steven's case. Illiterate is more fitting." Dean says and Floria laughs, looking over the couples dancing like modern-day Patrick Swayzes and Jennifer Greys. "He spent an hour once trying to say the word: reserved. And he thought it had to do with a doughnut."

Floria punches his lanky bicep and gives her glass to a waiter for refill. "Don't make fun of my man." she jokes and Dean smirks. "You don't exactly have woman-of-the-year on your arm."

"Don't be jealous," he quips and Floria reclaims her glass. "Claire's herself but you have to admit seeing Winnie get her dress torn to shreds and her face dunked in spiked punch is pretty entertaining."

"I thought that upset you seeing the look on your face when you came out with her." Floria admits, barely stifling laughter when Dean cocks a brow. "You didn't look too happy yourself on the gossip blog."

"It's chivalrous to do when you see a girl get drenched in punch." he tells and nods in Claire's direction. "She didn't even invite Winnie this time. She probably doesn't want to risk her social status."

"Well, technically, she's doing the right thing because Winnie isn't exactly the sweetest, according to Hayden." Floria explains. "She wants to sabotage Bryn and I find that cruel because she just disbanded The Heartbreakers. She didn't start World War III."

"Hayden's always been one for revenge and even though Bryn's motives weren't necessarily good. She doesn't deserve to suffer because I think she dealt with enough since –" He makes a fist and jabs it into his side, the universal symbol. Floria nods.

Dean directs his eyes to Steven, who stands in a corner, where most light comes from the chandeliers, his tongue stuck out as he attempts to catch a fake snowflake. His hair wildly unkempt and white dress shirt half-open, some buttons undone to reveal a well-toned collarbone. "I guess I found your date."

Floria narrows her eyes and cranes her neck to look over Claire, who seethes at two Empire employees, her eyes widening monstrously. "There's yours,"

They catch each other's gazes and smile, hold their glasses, clink them ceremoniously.

"Good luck." they say before striding to their respective dates.

**X**

Javier snatches the cigarette in Bryn's mouth and shoots it into a flowerpot. She narrows her eyes, the glitter on her eyelids shines as he smirks. "No smoking in The Empire, Blackwell." he commands and directs to the silver plague that reads the rule. "Especially not on a day you're supposed to be preparing war with Vena. We don't want you fainting from smoke inhalation when you're supposed to be readying ammunition."

They stand on the stairs and Bryn leans against the spiraling banister, the metal cool against her back. "That won't happen. We're already safe from any of Vena's schemes due to the destroyed blackmail she had against me." She crosses her arms and looks to the arched ceilings, potted flowers rest on secluded sills. "Especially since we also have the almighty Tinsley and Claire on our side."

"And I've rescued the … rocker-in-distress so she has no one else against me or us for that matter." Javier replies, a suave smirk falling to his face and Bryn meets his eyes in a private moment of passion. "I'm glad I did what I did."

"I'm still thankful." Bryn breathes, her words accented in cigarettes and mint. "How many more times do you want me to thank you? You keep saying how you rescued me from Vena's badly-manicured clutches."

His arms encircle her waist and he pulls her into him. "A few would be nice." he drawls and presses his lips to her throat. She swings an arm around his neck, keeping her composure and letting Javier kiss her without panicking despite how fast her heart clashed against her ribs. Reflexively, her fingers graze his jaw and his mouth on her throat felt stronger as it led to her jaw, her face, then her own.

Javier's lips left and Bryn raises her head as a porcelain urn of flowers shatters at their feet, just managing to leave them unscathed. Broken shards of painted crystal, a sheen of water, and velvet roses strewn everywhere. Bryn stiffens and felt uncharacteristic of herself as she fell into him, face in his chest as she breathes relief, regains posture, and lets her hands leave his back.

"We must really be hated." she mumbles and steps away. Glass crushes into powder beneath her heels. "Damn." She tucks a short brown lock behind an ear and looks back at Javier, who doesn't meet her eyes, only focuses on what could've injured them. Her eyebrows rise and she opens her mouth but this time, he cuts her off.

"Are you okay?" he questions, "I would be a better person here and not accuse Vena right away but these vases shouldn't have fallen accidentally." He looks up, a few more of the same vases are secured with knotted rope. One loose string dangles from above, where it had obviously been cut.

"Shaken but fine," she whispers and a few guests stare at the glass at their feet in horror. "Are _you _okay?"

"It could've been worse." he answers and shoots his gaze to where a flash of raven was the last he'd seen close to the vases.

He looks back at Bryn as she looks toward the doorframe, noticing familiar blurs of disgruntled blondes.

Tinsley and Harper arrive and their eyes are colorful with worry. She says nothing but Harper and she exchange glances before Tinsley rushes over to them first, her heels clipping frantically. Tinsley's gaze is thick and Harper's is the same but his held more suspicion toward Javier.

"Oh my God, we saw that vase nearly hit you two on Gossip Bee's feed!" Tinsley advises and her eyes dart between them. "It was too close for comfort."

"So was their position." Harper says, lowering his voice and glaring at Javier.

Tinsley looks away to subtly elbow Harper. He manages to hold a whimper and softens his gaze when he looks to his sister, a smirk relaxing the situation. "No one must like you, huh?"

Bryn smiles, tense shoulders slumping. "Apparently."

Javier locks gazes with Tinsley and mouths the name she knew all-too-well.

"Vena."

**X**

"_Why are we even here_?"_ Javier asks Vena as she pulled her lips from his. _"_Why can_'_t we take this back to my place_?"

_Vena ran a finger on his just_-_kissed pink lips_._ Javier Dominguez was just so gorgeous_. _He was one of St. Jude_'_s biggest catches and was all hers_.

"_Because I don_'_t want Mrs_._ Dominguez thinking that I_'_m some sort of floozy_."_ Vena kissed her boyfriend again_,_ his hands rubbing across her back_. "_Especially not this close to Cotillion season_."

_Javier moved back_,_ a confused look on his face_. "_I thought you didn_'_t give a shit about that_."

"_I don_'_t but my mother does_."_ Vena kissed her boyfriend on the cheek_. "_And while she_'_s paying for my clothes and other things_,_ I_'_ll make sure to do anything to keep that bitch happy_."

_Javier grinned before driving his face into her neck_._ His kisses trailing up her neck_,_ a barely_-_audible moan coming from her lips_._ She wanted nothing more than to get to Javier's penthouse_,_ have sex_,_ and drink a bunch of Mr. Dominguez_'_s aged liquor_._ Now_,_ that sounded like a good time_.

"_You don_'_t know how amazing you are_."_ Javier said as he pulled his flask from his pocket. Just like everything he owned_,_ it had JD monogrammed on it_.

"_I lov_—"

"_Don_'_t say it_."_ Vena put her fingers to his lips_. "_Just don_'_t_._ Those words mean nothing but trouble_."

_Javier shot back his flask_,_ letting the burning liquid travel down his throat_._ Vena was right_;_ the word love wasn_'_t for them_._ Vena and he weren_'_t one of those lovey_-_dovey couples_._ They were a melting pot of sexual energy_.

"_Can_'_t you two go and fuck somewhere else_?"

_Vena flipped her wavy_,_ jet black hair over her shoulders and started laughing_.

"_Why don_'_t you mind your own business_,_ bitch_?"

_Javier looked over his girlfriend_'_s shoulder to see Tinsley Hastings standing in front of them_._ Damn_,_ Tinsley had to be one of the most beautiful girls he_'_d ever seen_.

_Tinsley was wearing a baggy shirt over her short Constance skirt; her slender legs disguised in fishnets cut with holes. Her perfect golden blonde hair was flipped all to the right and she was holding a glamorous Ralph Lauren Ricky bag. She looked like a kinky Catholic schoolgirl stripper._

"_You know, I love you two." Tinsley laughed as she reached into her bag for a joint. "You two want some? I have Mrs. Carpenter next period and God knows I need this."_

"_Let me light that for you_."_ Javier said suavely as he turned on her joint. _

"_Javier Dominguez_."_ Tinsley said_,_ blowing smoke in his face_. "_Always the charmer_."

"_You know anything for my lady_'_s best friend_."_ Javier said as he took the joint from Tinsley_'_s fingers_._ He sucks it in and starts kissing Vena_,_ smoke coming from both their mouths_.

"_You know_,_ I feel like throwing a party today_."_ Vena said as she climbed off Javier_'_s lap. "It_'_s a Friday and we have nothing to do_."

"_So a party it is_."_ Tinsley grins. _"_Now_,_ I have a reason to wear those Gucci leather pants_."

_Vena kissed her boyfriend again_,_ her tongue slipping into his mouth_._ Tinsley could just roll her eyes as she took another hit from the joint_.

"_I_'_ll see you tonight_,_ baby_."_ Vena said as she gave him another quick kiss. _"_Now_,_ let_'_s go and announce this party_,_ bitch_!"

_Tinsley passed the joint to Javier before following her best friend_. "_Keep it_._ It was nice seeing you again_,_ Javier_."

"_The pleasure is always mine_,_ Tinsley_."_ Javier called as they walked into the pristine halls of Constance_._ Vena wrapped her hands in Tinsley_'_s as they strut towards the lunchroom_.

"_You know that Javier and you are gorgeous together_."_ Tinsley grinned. _"_If you guys have babies_,_ they_'_ll be_,_ like_,_ the cutest ones_."

"_Ew_,_ Tinsley_."_ Vena rolls her eyes. _"_Let_'_s not start thinking about kids_,_ they_'_re disgusting_."

_"Ladies_,_ where are you headed_?"

"_Shit_!"_ Vena hissed under her breath as she turns. She was hoping that she didn_'_t smell like weed_,_ she didn_'_t need to get in trouble today_._ But lucky for her_,_ it was just Mr_._ Baxter_._ He was the new film teacher who looked like he just graduated from college_._ He was a serious hottie_._ Pretty much every girl at Constance thought so_.

"_Tinsley_,_ Vena_,_ I hope you two know lunch is over_."

_Vena grinned_._ "Oh my God_,_ we didn_'_t even notice_._ I_'_m sorry_,_ Mr_._ Baxter_."

_Tinsley ran a finger through her hair_. "_We were just going to class_,_ don_'_t worry about it_."

_Vena turned around to look at Tinsley_,_ her eyes serious_. "_Tinsley_,_ why don_'_t you go to class ahead of me_?"

_Tinsley looked at her best friend_,_ confused_. "_Sure_,_ I guess_._ Have a nice day, Mr. Baxter_."

"_You too, Tinsley."_

_Tinsley started walking to her locker_._ Mrs. Carpenter could wait_,_ she was seriously so boring_._ Oh_,_ shit_!_ She_'_d forgotten to ask Vena if she should bring liquor_.

_Tinsley headed back towards the hallway_,_ where she left her best friend only to see Vena pressed against a wall of lockers_._ Making out with Mr_._ Baxter_.

_She couldn_'_t believe what she was seeing_.

Vena scoffs into her drink as she stares over the couples at the craft service table: Claire and Dean. She remembers them, she never liked them, even when they weren't together, too poor for her taste. As much as Claire showed her wealth, she'd never be as rich as Tinsley or Javier's parents.

She'd get her revenge against those losers. They were the ones to rat her out to the dean.

Sadly enough, she failed in a second attempt to injure Bryn because the vase she'd thrown missed her own personal dartboard.

Tinsley was the one to catch her affair with Mr. Baxter and that was what steamed the open flames in Vena's heart most. She isn't the goody-goody she pretends to be. Never is. _Never was_.

She nearly broke her glass when she saw Javier leaning to kiss Bryn, a smile spread across her face, her eyes held mysteries. Javier only used to kiss her like that and now he was all over the youngest Blackwell. His arms around her as they swerve across the floor.

Matt glances around as he sips his drink. He didn't want to stay stuck in a corner with Vena. She was boring and he would rather listen to Steven's endless monologues on pastimes and how many times he broke fingers from skateboarding wipeouts.

But he looks at Vena and saw her concentrated on Javier and Bryn. He remembers the letter Bryn wrote and he actually had it on him since he never forgot about it or showed it to Bryn mostly because he hadn't gotten hold of her since she was either at band practice or with Javier most of the time.

Why not now then? Who cares if she was dancing with him? he was Matthew Stradlin and was nearly invincible. _Nearly_.

He didn't look at Vena when he left her alone, straight for Bryn.

He just _had_ to figure it out.

**X**

"Then I broke all my fingers once crashin' into this ten-foot street pole, man." Steven babbles and declines beer a waitress offers. "I was just so damn out of it because I hit my head on this huge thing of grass –"

Floria held her glass to a waiter for another refill. "That's a bush, Steven." she corrects and across from the two, Tinsley laughs and Harper smiles.

Steven narrows his eyes at his partner. "I don't give a crap but it was huge and stuff and didn't look green … it was, like, almost brown." He takes a cubed sandwich from a table and throws it in his mouth, continuing to talk whilst chewing. "And I forgot why it happened but then I remembered it was because I saw Pam Anderson in Playboy."

"Pamela Anderson isn't _too _attractive," Harper tells Steven, who gasps dramatically at him, bread and meat in his teeth. "She's just too … fake for me."

"Fake or not, she married hot-rocking Tommy Lee." Floria explains and looks over Tinsley, eyes twinkling. "Do you think it really matters if a girl's fake or not for a guy to like her?"

Tinsley's ready to add her opinion but shakes her head, the word. The one she knew so well echoes like a clash of hammers.

_Fake_.

"_Hey_,_ Ven,_"_ Tinsley greeted_,_ voice uncharacteristically sullen_._ She still couldn_'_t believe what she_'_d seen earlier and was trying her hardest to keep cool_._ The blonde swung a heavy bottle of vodka to Vena and the seductress caught it_,_ manicured fingers curling around it_. "_We_'_ve got all the liquor for the party and a healthy supply of weed_._ Do you think we need anything else_?"

_Vena gave Tinsley a glance_,_ eyebrows cocked and a smirk_. "_How _'_bout a healthy supply of St. Jude_'_s studs_?"_ She laughed and waited for Tinsley's giggle but she only fidgeted and picked at a bead on her leather belt_. "_Hey_,_ bitch_,_ what_'_s up_?_ You okay_?"

_Tinsley bobbed her head. _"_I_'_m cool_,_ just tired_._ I_'_m probably losing it with all the weed_."_ She laughed this time_._ Vena smiled_._ She was glad Vena couldn_'_t sense her anxiousness_ _and hid her twitching fingers in her coat pockets_._ Even though she was afraid for what would happen_,_ she had to admit_,_ Vena did a fantastic job decorating the Constance room with ripped streamers and strings of sparkly beads_. "_I_'_ll be back_,_ okay_?_ I_'_m gonna check how it_'_s going outside_."

"_Sure_,_ go ahead_."_ Vena said as if she had the cleanest slate. _"_Just be back before the party starts. This will be epic_!"

_She calmed herself and nodded_._ Of course_,_ it would_.

_Her steps echo the halls and once she_'_s out the door_._ She exhaled in relief_,_ barely halfway through the building, she crashed into someone and nearly fell back. She glared at who could_'_ve caused her fall and suddenly her glare softened when she discovers whom_.

_A teen with a Mohawk and bald sides stood, eyes narrow and eyebrows knitted_._ He was Matthew Stradlin_,_ who always managed a tough exterior with his facial piercings and a skull_-_and_-_crossbones tattoo inked on his bicep_.

_He was daring and adventurous and silently many Constance girls fawned over him_.

_Tinsley wouldn_'_t give him the satisfaction he wanted_._ He thought he was almighty now that he was in a rock band but that_'_d never make her swoon into his arms_.

"_Hey_,_ Matt_."_ Tinsley whispered and rose a brow_,_ clicking a heel on the marble. _"_Who knew you_'_d be at a party like this_?_ You don_'_t seem the type_."

"_I_'_m not_._ Vena doesn_'_t matter to me_,"_ he spat and lit an American Spirit_,_ herbal smoke following his words_._ "just decided to check it out_._ A little entertainment would do me good_."

"_Do us all good_,_ hopefully_."_ She snagged his cigarette and stubbed it_. "_No smoking shit cigarettes in the building_._ They ain_'_t any good_."_ She stepped up to him_. "_Would you be satisfied with something _…_ better_?"_ She pursued her mouth and lifted her shoulders_.

_His brows didn_'_t deepen and for a moment he hesitated before he went to her_,_ throwing the cigarette from her fingers to the floor_. "_Most definitely_."

_Their lips collided_.

_And from afar_,_ Vena watched_,_ smirking deviously_.

Tinsley blinks out of her daydream and meets everyone's confusion. Harper lowers his glass, he doesn't ask if she's alright, maybe he's used to it with Bryn. He learnt to not push questions and looks back at Steven, who just finished a story on frozen waffles and an article in _Rolling Stone_.

"Hey, Steven," Harper calls, setting aside his drink and piloting his eyes to another table. "Why don't we find some more of those little sandwiches? They're pretty good, apparently." He looks over the empty plate. Steven grins and runs for the other table. Harper follows, leaving the girls alone.

Floria didn't wait for Harper to escape her vision when she gazes at her worriedly. "You alright? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

She can't reply, only switches her eyes to Matt as he murmurs with Vena, exchanging secrets before he merges into the crowd, looking anxiety-struck.

"Oh." Floria breathes and took a macaron off the table. "You like him, huh?"

She whips back around to face Floria. "Of course not! Well … in the past. I'm with Harper now."

"Doesn't mean you can't like him. Matt's pretty cool when he wants to be, I guess. He's just overly-defensive and I hate to jump to conclusions but I'm sure he's being brainwashed by Vena."

Her eyelids flicker as Tinsley stares at Floria somberly. "Agreed."

It never hurt so bad to agree.

**X**

"Mind if we dance, Bryn?" Matt inquires, completely ignoring the look Javier gave him as he turns toward Bryn, eyes questioningly wide. "We've never really had a decent moment since before your dad's death."

Javier rolls his eyes and felt Bryn stiffen in his hands. He looks down at her and she nods, forcing a smile and unlatching Javier's grip, her hands sliding down from his shoulders to biceps. "Um, yeah, I know." she admits, trying to toughen up and even though she was better. The sudden thought of her father felt fearful. "Javier, you mind?"

He wants to say he does but doesn't necessarily want a scene so he cautiously catches Matt's eye, a glare in the guitarist's eyes. Something he just didn't trust.

"Sure, share another dance with me after." he requests and retreats his hands to his pockets, a dent ruins his forehead and he nods at Matt, just daring him to fuck up before disappearing in the crowd.

Immediately Matt strides in and takes her hands, forcing his on her waist as he yanks her in. The next song that begins is slow and comforting, a perfect waltz. He smiles at her, the stubble thick on his jaw seems to darken in the lights.

"Sorry." he apologizes. "That was pretty cruel, even for me. I was just trying to get rid of him."

"Surprising to know you don't like him," she mumbles, keeping their gazes locked. "You're usually _so _nice."

"I just don't trust him, his reputation isn't the best and he pretty much sleeps with every girl in Manhattan." he continues, ignoring her sarcasm. "You never know what he'd do to you."

She rolls her eyes and smirks. "David's done much worse. _Trust me_."

"Did you tell him?" Bryn blinks and narrows her eyes. "Oh, so you haven't?"

"He doesn't need to know, I don't know him that well," Bryn spits through her smile and widens her eyes when she sees Matt smirk. He doesn't let her go when he sifts his pockets and pulls out some folded Post-Its, holding them out. "The hell is that?"

He prods it closer and hesitatingly she accepts it. Skimming the handwriting and shoving them back at him, just managing to muffle laughter. Whoever had signed as her was good. However, she's pretty sure she never wrote Matt a love letter or called him 'a hot guitarist' to anyone. It's too girly for her. Text works better.

"Matt, I hate to shoot down your dreams –" She chokes on snickers and his smile fades. "But I didn't write that, man. I have no idea who did but it wasn't me because I most certainly do _not _write like that."

His arms collapse from around her waist and in seconds, he has her forearms, fingers nailing into her skin, flaming like hot knives. She could feel the iron in his grip and she attempts to shrug him but his hands only procure raw strength.

"What do you mean you didn't write it?" he hisses, digging his nails into her skin. "Then, who the hell wrote it, Bryn? _God_? You _had_ to write it!"

"Lemme go first, Matt. I didn't write it. It could be Vena for all you know, she hates my guts already." He doesn't listen and her glare lightens. Why was he being so horrible? What had she done? "Matt, stop! That hurts!"

"Answer me!" he snarls. "You're always involving others who have nothing to do with it!"

People begin to stare and murmur about Matthew Stradlin turning out to be a woman-beater due to how he was yelling and demanding of Bryn.

"Matt, hey," Steven steps over and looks between them suspiciously, noticing their positions and the marks indenting on Bryn's arms. "Man, let her go. What the hell is your problem?"

"Our _friend _is lying to me!" he shouts, not even bothering to loosen his hold. "And she wonders why David just walked out on her!"

"Doesn't give you a reason to strangle her. David doesn't involve us anymore, Matt. We weren't there so keep out." Steven commands, approaching his friends cautiously. "Let her go _now_. I'm not kidding."

Bryn looks to Steven in fear and hears Matt swear, shoving Bryn and nearly knocking her down. Steven catches her, brings her upright carefully as she flinches from him, bruises already discoloring around her elbows.

"What's your problem?" Javier demands and hurries to Steven and Bryn. He barely paid any attention to Bryn and Matt's conversation but had seen Matt badmouthing him and nearly injuring Bryn. "I may have done some things in the past but I was never cruel enough to hurt a girl." He looks over Bryn, noticing the bruises and meets Steven's eyes. "Mind telling me what happened?"

Steven opens his mouth but Matt cuts him off. "I would rather tell you because I doubt you'd mind knowing more about Bryn." Bryn pales and bites her lip, collapsing into Steven. "It's something you would've never expected especially involving our _great _rebel."

"Matt." Steven cautions, eyes ominous.

Bryn sniffles, looking as if she just dodged lightning. "Please, Matt." she pleads. "Don't do this."

Javier raises a brow. "Do what?"

Steven stares at Javier, frustration radiating in amber eyes. "Just get out of here." he commands, not to be cruel but to rescue Bryn's relationship with another guy.

"No, _stay_." Matt responds, sounding chaotic. "I think you need to know."

"He doesn't. It isn't our business, Matt. Bryn could tell who she wants. We don't have the rights to that." Steven says. Bryn trembles, reaching back to clutch Steven's neck. "Now, _stop_."

"Please," she begs and her eyes glower, shining desperately.

Matt smirks evilly, dimples on his cheeks and turns to Javier. "What was I saying?"

More murmurs. More gossip.

Sick with malice. _Shout at the Devil_, almost.

She remembers leaving Italy. She felt incredibly homesick and lonely, she wanted friends but only had Floria as her temporary language teacher and her brother, who couldn't count much as a friend. Her father was never around since he traveled most of the time and she usually spent time alone, walking to the duck pond and staring into it.

Her English had improved only a slight and she had learnt basic greetings but was still tortured with a heavy accent and on one of those days she met David.

He was nice and after she had gotten to know him she decided to share her own rugged past. Biting her nails and kicking her chair as she spoke.

After the admittance, she looked to him and found him, smiling. He didn't care. He was _laughing_.

She laughed, too. But deep in her, she didn't want Javier's reaction. She couldn't handle another reaction, she wanted to retreat. It's no longer necessary.

Bryn stares all over and captures Javier's gaze in hers. He could practically feel how broken she was and she blinks, tears beading her lashes as she releases Steven and flees the room.

"See what you've done?" Steven sneers and looks for Bryn. He couldn't even spot her. "Damn, if she commits suicide because of you, I'm definitely taking you down." He looks around and when ready to go after her, a hand catches his shoulder and he looks to see Javier, his eyes sturdy and focused.

"Let me get her." he says and nods, not even bothering to hesitate. Javier goes after her instantly.

Now, that they were no longer the center of attention, Steven twists back toward his friend, eyes bright.

"You'll definitely pay for that." he says, eyes glinting dangerously. "Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow but I will _definitely_ kick your ass on Tuesday."

He walks away and for once Matt's prized smirk drops.

**X**

Javier descends secluded stairwells in The Empire, searching for Bryn. He was surprised at how quick she disappeared. He hoped she didn't go hurt herself because she looked miserable beyond words. Her tears shined terribly, it almost hurt to see her that way but being her, she attempted to blink them off and only made her anxiety worsen.

He heads down another flight, his fingers lingering across the banisters as he dashes to reach the foot which he was far from. A low sigh interrupts his rushing and he peers below to see the crown of someone's head, a girl leans against the banister, holding a champagne flute and a cigarette.

The crimson mouth gave it all away.

He quickens his pace. She didn't look up when he closes in on her and only took a short drag of her cigarette, eyes bloodshot. A cigarette in her fingers and a glass of champagne at her heel while she kneels for the glass, she stresses the weight of her vulnerability. She had to say _something_.

"Hey, Dominguez," she says, lowering her voice to hide the fact she'd been crying and just managed to stop herself by stealing the champagne from a guest. "I'm surprised you didn't stick around to listen to my life story. I thought you'd be more fascinated by that."

He takes her glass and she isn't reluctant to give it up. He sets it by the stairs and caught her gaze, her watery irises widen in suspicion, which made her look so intense and scared that her shoulders fell. "Why didn't you stay?" she asks, his silence bothering her. "It'd be much better than watching me rant about how fucked I am."

"If it'd make you this upset, I wouldn't. I'd never watch you run, knowing you were terrified." he finally speaks, taking her hand, her fingers twitch and she shuts her eyes. "Matthew didn't say anything because of the threats he received from Steven." Bryn's eyelids flutter open and she snickers, wiping her smudgy mascara. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Thought I was gonna kill myself?" she guesses and laughs at her own humorless joke. "No, I wasn't. I just felt … betrayed by a friend. I never saw him like that."

"I'm sure he'll be fine. He's just being a bit controlled by Vena." Javier smiles. "As we speak, Claire's trying to get rid of Vena somehow. It'll be better soon."

"Come on, let's get back. You're supposed to share a New Year's kiss with me." She takes his hand and he pulls her in, mouth to her ear. "I won't ask you about your past until you're ready to tell me … if you ever. I won't push, I promise." A wave of relief crashes over her life.

"Thank you, Javier." she adds. "Honestly, thank you."

And from the top of the stairs, a man in a prestige suit and lavender bowtie watches, smiling amazingly. He rotates on his heel and ascends the next staircase. "Oh, memories ..."

**X**

Claire suspiciously accepts a martini from a waitress. It was a peculiar pink, a peppermint floating at its rim. She was about to return the glass but the waitress had already scurried off with her tray. A few of Claire's minions glare at it.

"Are you even going to drink that?" one asks, cautiously touching the pink trim. "I bet Vena's trying to poison you."

Claire scoffs. "Tell me about it." She walks over and dumps the contents into a flower pot. "That'll show her, smelt suspicious, too. I'm glad I didn't drink that nasty stuff."

The girls laugh and Claire smirks.

From afar, Bryn receives the same drink as it's pushed into her hand. She cocks a brow and looks down. "Um, thanks?" she says to the fleeing waitress. "Damn, this looks weird." In seconds, Harper crosses her and glances between her and the drink, plucks the candy out and observes it. "Check this out, Harper."

He narrows his eyes and takes the glass from her as she flings the candy. "Don't drink this, Bryn. Who knows what's in it?" he warns. "Come on, let's go find Floria."

She smiles and nods.

And feet away, Tinsley happily accepts the drink from the waitress and holds it to Dean. "Look at this. This sure looks different," she chimes and fishes out the peppermint before draining her glass. "It tasted good, too … different."

"You sure that was safe?" She pops the candy in her mouth, crunching it in her teeth. "It didn't look too trustful."

She feels her tongue tingle and swallows hard. "Uh, yeah." Dean's face blurs and she fights to regain sight. Voices and movements around her swarm together, sounding like jumbled nonsense. She blinks again and looks towards Dean and though she couldn't really conjure his face, she could hear his worry.

"Tinsley, you _sure _you're okay?"

She nods and struggles for air, looking around for anyone she could see clearly or at least an exit.

"Yes." She heard herself slur. "I – I just need to get out of here, I'm sorry, I-I don't feel so good."

_Five_,_ four _–

"Want me to go with you?" he questions worriedly and takes the glass. "I'll take you home if you want."

"No, no," she says again and staggers. "I'll catch a cab and go home, I have to –"

_Three_,_ two _–

Not waiting for a proper response, she stumbles off, feeling like she was floating. She didn't even feel alive anymore, she felt sick and dizzy.

_One _–

Confetti sprays everywhere and people scream and cheer, embracing and kissing. All festivity and love. She was sure many would be making out, lips crushed, tongues in others mouths. She would've wanted to share a moment like that with Harper but all she wanted to do was leave, run home, and collapse into bed.

She slugs against the wall and looks up for someone – _anyone _to help her.

A hand caught her arm, a powerful hand: straightening and authoritative.

She couldn't make out the face but she knew the voice, lengthy with ice.

"Let's get you out of here."

**X**

Harper enters his room after a long night, loosening his tie and kicking at equipment and shirts he'd forgotten to tell the maids to clean. He and Bryn had gone home when it was cast as midnight and confetti stained the marble. The snow was already thick and some patches almost caused them to fall. Harper had a close-call with black ice, Bryn already clutching her stomach as she laughed at his clumsiness.

He threw his tie onto the computer desk and grabs his phone, checking for missed calls. Tinsley left earlier and that was what confused him. Was he that much of a bad person? Why would she just leave? She could've at least told him. Shown him respect, he at least deserved that.

Carefully, he took off his blazer, throwing it over a chair and brushing his fingertips over the dust on books his father had given him. He hated to say he had never really read any. They were as heavy as bibles and sometimes he felt too lazy to carry them in his equipment bag since he already had enough in there.

Bryn would probably put them to better use because he only used them as paperweights.

"Harper, you alive?" Bryn calls, standing in his doorjamb in her usual nightclothes: a torn concert tee and shorts, shaggy hair in a knot. "You look like death, dude. Like bad-bang-with-Nikki-Sixx."

He looks over her, rubbing tiredly at his eyes and blinking. "I'm okay, just a bit surprised." he admits and she leans in his doorframe. "I just couldn't believe Tinsley left so suddenly. I almost feel betrayed."

"Harper, you know, girls are crazy." She props her leg up against the door, leaning on her thigh. "I'm pretty sure she wouldn't do anything on purpose. Tinsley's pretty cool and you already had a dick move so you shouldn't be talking much." He cocks a brow and nods. "Fall asleep and I bet she'll call in the morning." She slides her foot off the frame and waves before heading for her room, her voice ringing down the hall. "Good niiiiight!"

"Night," he murmurs and sits on the edge of his bed, racing thoughts overwhelming him as he sinks into the pillows, thinking about friends and family. Did he have anything to worry about? Or was he finished after all that happened? He sure hoped he was complete because he most certainly didn't want to lose any more friends.

His phone vibrates on his bedside table and he jumps for it, not bothering to check the caller ID before he answers. "Hello?" he answers and nearly kicks himself for the nervous tic.

Heavy breathing and the squelch of nasty breathing. He arches a brow and gets up from bed. "Um, is anyone there?"

"Harper … Harper, help." the distress of Tinsley begs. "Vena has me in … dah Empire. You have to help, I'm … scared –"

He doesn't wait for more, nor does he reply as he is already running toward Bryn's room, nearly breaking the door as he clicks on a light switch. She moans, rubbing her eyes and squinting from underneath the sheets.

"The hell, Harper? I was sleeping. This better be good." she groans, flipping the covers off her.

"Get up." he demands and she straightens in fear of his tone. "Vena has Tinsley and I don't know what else but she sounds drugged." Her eyes widen and she slides off her bed, looking around for shoes. "Hurry, Bryn!"

She sighs and grabs a pack of cigarettes and her Blackberry. "I know that much but putting on your pants would help us both. Neither of us wants to see your striped boxers."

**X**

**That finishes off a chapter and I really hoped this turned out better than my others because this took a while to write and I wanted to make enough drama for it. I just finished watching the Golden Globes Red Carpet and I owe my thanks to GossipQueen101 for writing the first flashback.**

**Most of these outfits were inspired off real celebrities' like Kristen Stewart's white, one-sleeved dress at a movie premiere and Chace Crawford's slicked back hair in GG. He's so handsome with his hair like that and BANG go my eyes when he's wearing one of his perfect suits too.**

**And I'm currently watching the Golden Globes now and I'm definitely rooting for Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams to win awards for their movie, Blue Valentine, and though I haven't seen it yet, I hear it's supposed to be great.**


	14. Chapter 14

"I can't even think of where Vena could've just dropped Tinsley off ... loaded, no less." Claire advises as she clenches her leather clutch and a mug of chamomile tea in both hands. She wears a small coat over her oyster lace slip and wool gloves. Harper, Bryn, and Javier stand around her as she lifts the glass to her lips. "I doubt Tinsley even knew where she was. The receptionist said neither Tinsley nor Vena have checked in."

Harper shook his head and caught Bryn's worried gaze, the blue eyes—_his _eyes stared back at him. She doesn't bother for a smile because she knew when he got like this nothing would make him well unless the problem was solved. She probably felt just as worse because if he was upset she was, too. When she had first seen him cry as kids, she managed her own tears when seeing his, only placating when he had.

She forces a smirk and her distressed eyes widen, eyebrows arching high. "Stop staring at me." she says and he can't even manage a laugh or at least a smile as he looks away, his mind flooding endless question. She sighs and shoves a hand into the pocket of her battered leather jacket, a crooked dent ruining her raised brow. In the midst of silence, she turns to Claire and Harper, not once meeting Javier. "I'm going outside for a smoke. I'll be back in soon."

Javier raises an eyebrow. "Mind if I come?"

She doesn't hesitate. "I do, actually." Her voice losing venom as she pulls a cigarette from her pocket. "I'll come back." She crashes through the doors and out of sight. The spark of a Zippo glows in the dusk night as she lights.

"She seems ... uncharacteristically upset." Javier murmurs, locking eyes with Claire.

Claire nods but meets Harper, who narrows his eyes at the patterned carpet. "Harper, what do you think we should do? Since we don't have any leads on where she is, we only know she's wasted somewhere in New York."

Javier's eyes are on her but she doesn't care. "If even New York."

He takes his cell out and holds it over. "I have the number she called me from if that counts." he admits and hands the device to Claire as she inspects the number glinting across the screen. "Maybe one of you know it because me and Bryn didn't."

The queen bee reads the number and shakes her head as a wordless Javier takes the phone, also sneaking a glance at it. He narrows his eyes and pursues his lips before meeting Harper's prodding gaze. He returns the phone and nods in his direction.

"I do know it, actually." he tells the anxious Blackwell. "A long time ago, my ... _girlfriend _and I stayed at this old, dirty motel in Brooklyn Heights." Claire hides her smile in a sip. "The numbers are unusually similar and the last two are usually the room number said person is staying in … and since they're fourteen, Tinsley and Vena must be in that room."

Harper silences and his breath hitches. Tinsley must've been drugged badly if she didn't even know where she was. Who knows what Vena gave her? She had crossed the line. Not even Bryn would be cruel enough to drug someone.

"If you guys are coming, let's go." he mutters and when catching Javier's gaze, his eyes soften with sympathy. "Thanks."

In the rarest of situations, Javier smirks and nods as the three head out into the dark. Bryn stands outside, taking drags and looking at her phone every now and then as if waiting for something. Harper grabs hold of her wrist and in shock, she drops the cigarette into a lush pillow of snow. He doesn't yell or demand, only turns his eyes from their family car to the road.

She shrugs and wrenches her wrist from his grasp. "We'll get her." she assures and brushes her fingers over his forearm. "Promise."

After all, half a smile comes to his face and he paths through the snow and opens the door, allowing Claire and Bryn in first before he and Javier.

She would be okay.

A lot had happened to him and Bryn in the past. They had suffered through their parents' divorce and their father's death together.

He had his friends and Bryn. She was as close to a family member he'd ever have or really need for that matter.

Everything would be alright.

Claire murmurs inaudibly to Bryn as his sister shifts herself, leaning back against the door and propping her ankles up on Claire's knee casually, listening.

Javier watches and Harper lowers his window, gazing up at the half moon and white stars.

He used to see a lot from where he came from. That was all he had back then: the stars.

He has much more now. He built something here in New York when he and Bryn moved in.

He only thought he had his mother, father, Bryn –

But he has so much more.

And you know what that is?

A _true _family.

**X**

_There_'_s fire_,_ a raging explosion of flames licking at a building roof_,_ the mosaic windows crack and crumble as murderous shards of painted glass fall into a familiar courtyard_._ The screeching of fire sirens fill the air as men prepare to extinguish the flames_.

_Others watch_,_ speechless and shocked_._ Some just mortified as the prestige building fell to pieces in front of them_.

_The air reeks of toxic plume_,_ overwhelming the stinks of dingy booze and rum_.

_The men manage to put out the fire in due time as they brace themselves and ready their gas masks_,_ heading inside in search of survivors_.

_But that won_'_t change anything_.

_The sin has already been complete_.

Tinsley awakens, bathed in a cold sweat, nothing is clear to her eyes. Everything's just a blurred mess of spiraling colors. The room spins as she can only remember certain things – this just _had _to be a dream. She had tremendous fun with Harper and some mystery woman gave her a drink while she was talking with Dean and then nothing.

That drink had to be spiked. It wasn't sane. She wouldn't be feeling like this, exhausted and fearful, anxious and sick. She knew something. She wasn't home, she wasn't _safe_.

She struggles for vision. The room is poor. The checkered floor tiles of the kitchen were cracked, the counters stained, various pills and cigarette buds scattered across a table close to a door, and the lights were muted by ugly paper lamps.

She forces herself to move and look at the table closest to her face. She didn't even want to _know_ what she was lying on. A vial of white powder and other prescription drugs were on the table, each name and brand unknown.

Wherever she was, she had to get out.

When she finally mustered enough to sit up, she gripped fiercely at the hardwood table and felt her frame tremor, and fell back against the rough grain as a rag doll would.

A door swings open and she manages nonsense. The fluid clipping of pointy heels echoes on the tiles. Tinsley fights to lift her head and is suddenly caught in the frost of ice blue eyes, dark hair frames an oval face, and a ravenous frown poses on a bee-stung mouth.

She recognizes the face. The look of a homicidal devil child.

"Vena ..." Tinsley murmurs, fluttering her lashes to keep conscious. "W-Wha – did y-you do ... to me?"

"Some angel dust in your drink. You remember it." her heartless ex-friend replies. "We used to do it when we were freshmen each day we skipped Design. Don't you remember, _bitch_?" The thumping of heels grows louder and the sound makes Tinsley flinch. "Oh, what's wrong? Can't speak, sweetie?"

"Why … why are you doing this to me?" Tinsley chokes, cautiously ridding her voice of a stammer as an ache erupts through her. The drugs taking toll slowly. Her throat burns with each word as her surroundings begin blurring again. "What did I … ever do to you?"

"You're really asking that? _Really_?" Vena laughs bitterly to herself, the sound ringing even when cruel. "You know exactly what you've done. Do I even have to begin listing? I'll start with one … you _ruined _my life." She yanks Tinsley up and grips her shoulders with claws for nails, digging the sharp tips into her arms, sending hits of stabbing deep pain in her bones.

"But they had to know! They would've discovered eventually!" she protests and feels Vena's glare sink in. "At least you weren't arrested!"

"Yes, but do you realize how much my parents had to waste for me to exact my revenge?" she begins and Tinsley feels her hands tremble with anger. "Damn you, Tinsley. Damn you to _hell_!" Her backhand comes hard against Tinsley's face and forces her back against the creaky bedframe. She clutches at her face and tastes metal on her lips.

She lifts her fingers to touch her lower lip and finds a strange red on the fingertip.

Vena smirks and flexes her fingers, her thumbnail broken.

Her next words turn Tinsley's blood to ice.

"Prepare yourself, bitch."

**X**

_Vena sits in Javier_'_s lap_,_ her mouth on his jaw as he leans into her embrace_._ He keeps his arms tight around her as Tinsley and many girls chatter_,_ sharing joints_._ He concentrated on nothing but the beauty in his arms_._ He didn_'_t need to worry about anything or anyone for that matter_._ He already had everything he desired_. _Wealth_,_ drugs_,_ a fantastic sex life_.

_From the corner of his eye_,_ he watches Tinsley sneak nervous glances in his direction_._ Why the hell would she be doing that_?_ She must_'_ve been high or something because there was no way she could like him_._ She respected Vena far too much_.

_Suddenly_,_ Vena checked her watch and climbed off Javier_,_ her lips pursued in a wink_. "_I_'_ll be back_._ Gonna get more liquor_."_ She cradles his face in her hands and brushes her lips across his_. "_Don_'_t worry_._ I_'_ll get your favorite_._ Just stay where you are_."_ She leaves and flits into the towering doors of Constance_.

_Tinsley exchanges glances between him and Vena_'_s back before she secretly follows inside_.

_He blinks and feels someone clap him on the back_._ He looks to see Steven Adler with an unattractive buzz cut_. _He grins and holds a bottle of Jack Daniels to him_. "_Hey_,_ man_!_ Want some_?_ We got liquor to feed a barn_!"

_Javier nods and Adler shoves the jug into his hands_._ Why would Vena go inside_,_ then_?_ There was no liquor in Constance unless in her locker but Tinsley was going after her. She'd undoubtedly tell him if there was something wrong with his girlfriend_.

_Everyone respected him and just as many were scared of him_.

_He didn_'_t have anything to worry about_.

_At least that was what he hoped_.

"Javier, you coming?"

Javier looks to see Claire blinking at him, snowflakes on the empty leather beside him. He notices the car had already arrived at their destination. Ice coated the cracked path leading to the motel doors and Bryn follows her brother as he hurries for the entrance, unafraid of what's to come.

Claire puts her hand on the frozen glass of the window and motions him along. "Why are you just sitting there? Thinking about your _girlfriend _again?"

He steps past her with a scoff. "Is there a problem? At least I'm not as cruel as you. You're lucky to have Dean because if not you'd have no one."

He knows he hurt her when she doesn't reply and stomps off, long locks blowing as she leaves him standing in the icy wind. He shuts the door and heads after the others. Was it so bad to think about your exe? He had a lot on his mind and shouldn't be getting lectured by _Claire_. She thinks about Harper all the time and he dumped her how long ago?

Everyone tends to think about their past loves. It happens. You would want to get back with them, then don't. Sometimes you find someone better and other times you just don't want to get hurt again.

All the love and pain makes it worthwhile.

Sometimes, you end up happy and most of the time you have to go through so much to find someone who loves you for who you are.

Or at least that's what they say.

Bryn stumbles and falls onto hard ice. Harper continues on obliviously and crashes through the door. Claire is fast to assist but Javier beats her to it as he passes her swiftly and holds a hand to the fallen rebel. Bryn stares from his flexed fingers to him and back again before pursuing her lips and accepting his hand, he steadies her and accidentally brushes his fingers over her ribs. She yanks her hand from his and brushes ice off her jacket, bolting back to her brother's side.

Claire shakes her head and waves gloved fingers at him. "Chivalry won't win her over."

A smirk falls to his face and he holds the door for her. "Who says I'm trying to be chivalrous? Only polite." He lets the door fall when they're both in. "I already had her on my arm at your party. Isn't that worth something?"

She returns his smirk and continues. "With the Blackwells, most certainly no."

"And why is that?" he asks as Harper stretches to look up the dark shaft leading to the next floor, he whispers to Bryn and touches her wrist before they ascend the stairs. "Look at Tinsley, she already caught Harper's eye and how long have they known each other exactly? Few months? He nearly lost it when he found out Vena had her."

"Either way," Claire says, voice trailing. "I spent nearly all my time with Harper before we even dated and he kissed me dozens of times but even when we finally got together, he would never really open up to me. Who knows if he'll do the same with Tinsley? He and Bryn are very secluded and from what you see there –" Bryn speaks silent Italian to her twin and he stares blankly. "When they lower their voices around each other like that, they're usually talking about something no one knows. You'll learn to see that a lot."

Harper hurries down the hall and Bryn follows like a lost duckling, Claire watches with dark eyes.

"Be lucky you got Bryn on your arm because I'm pretty sure no one else could." She walks past with not the slightest regret.

She flips her hair over her shoulders and it brushes past in tangled disarray. "And you'd be lucky for it to happen again."

**X**

Vena paces back through the kitchen and main room, worrying Tinsley. Vena doesn't bother to catch Tinsley's eye once before she heads down the darkened hall, most likely to reapply her makeup. Tinsley hacks on her breath and tastes more copper. She had already managed to make the call to Harper but doesn't remember what she told him. It must've been stupid.

The door to the bathroom slams and Vena appears, still in her spidery black dress. Her hair thrown in a knot as she stares down Tinsley, a glitz in her glassy eyes. Her gaze focuses shortly on Tinsley before she whips away in disgust.

Tinsley shifts her weight and moans. "You sicken me." Vena barks, voice slick as a cobra slither. "The very sight of you. I can't believe we used to be friends. Gag me. Maybe we would've still been friends if you hadn't mentioned anything of what happened that night to ... I don't know, _everyone_?"

"I'm sorry, Vena. I truly am." Tinsley apologizes and feels the sting of tears. "What do you want me to say? I already said sorry! I never told anyone! The only person who really knew was Claire!"

"You should've known that Claire is one of the biggest, bitchiest gossipers on the UES." Vena shakes the hair out of her eyes and a few strands come loose from the updo. "She probably told everyone. If I had the chance, I would've got to her, too."

In lack of better response, Tinsley only turns from Vena's intensity and sighs. It's been long since she's felt so beneath herself. Drugged and useless like she was forced to perish in the worsts of the twilight zone. She couldn't breathe and was more than surprised that she even had a voice.

Why was this happening? Did she deserve this? She wanted to be the better person and it felt like Vena's life was simply paused because she didn't seem the slightest different. She was still the same manipulative person she was when they were younger. Cruel and ruthless, almost worse if possible.

"If it … if it wasn't for you." Vena began, her words shivering with rage. "Mr. Baxter may have still been here."

This wasn't good.

A frantic thumping and rapid heels clink from beyond the door as Tinsley finally deciphers her answer through a haze of drugs and stormy thoughts. She couldn't just hide behind her horrid past anymore, she had to do something. She couldn't be scared, she needed to be fearless.

She _had _to be fearless.

And in a moment of clarity, she felt stronger. Feeling like she could overpower anything or _anyone _in her wake.

_A lit match being mindlessly thrown onto a scarf_.

_A man_'_s terrified screams and howls echo as they deteriorate in crackling flames and poisons_.

_Platforms rap on marble as two girls run for the closest exit_.

_And as they arrive outside_,_ unharmed_._ One girl watches the flames envelop the building as another flees off into a smudgy horizon._

"We could've saved him!" Tinsley cries desperately, doing her best to placate Vena. "But you wanted him dead! He didn't deserve this!"

"I'm tired of your lies!" Vena yells and violently, reaching to lash out, her backhand coming for Tinsley again. To her surprise, Tinsley manages to catch her wrist and curls her fingers around the stiff bone. With just enough force, Vena twists her hand from Tinsley and sends her to the floor. She just managed to catch herself as the stench of drugs flared her nostrils. She watches Vena stalk into the kitchen and spot a suspicious glint of silver. Vena snatches it and snakes toward the shaken blonde menacingly. "You're finally getting what you deserved for _years_!"

The switchblade clenched in Vena's fist finally seemed like the end of her. Harper wouldn't come. He didn't care enough. She had ditched him after all.

No one would come. No one could save her. Maybe because she didn't deserve to be.

She'd be the first princess or heroine in clichés that falls at the hands of an antagonist.

But it felt good to say even before she left, she'd finally lifted the weighty burden from her shoulders.

She felt relieved and in some distant part of her mind, _safe_. Untouchable.

Vena smirks sickeningly, her revenge near-complete as the blade sparkles as if reflected off moonlight. "Any last words?"

She didn't shake her head or bother for words. She didn't have anything else to say. Her mind was as empty as a black heart.

The wind swishes and she felt the blade lowering down – closer – reaching for the perfect kill.

Her breath caught and she squeezes her eyes shut and suddenly –

_Blam_!

The door crashes against the wall, denting the plaster and nearly falling from unsupportable hinges. Harper bolts in, boots cracking as he restrains Vena, pinning her back as the knife lingering at Tinsley's throat distances. She slumps against the bedside table, opens her eyes, sees Claire coming for her – Javier and Bryn stand in the doorpost.

She saw tears film in Claire's eyes at Tinsley's bloodied face. Dry blood colors her jaw and mouth and her knotted hair, which was previously extravagant, and matted to her forehead. Her skin was bone white and the faintest of feverish pinks tinged her cheeks.

"Don't worry, you're okay." she tells Tinsley through a forced smile and dabs her face and eyelids with a handkerchief. "We're here. Me, Bryn, Javier …"

"Harper?" Tinsley croaks into dim silence. Harper looks over and stills Vena.

Claire nods and smoothes strands from Tinsley's face as she clutches the motionless beauty. "He's here, we're here. You'll be … okay."

Tinsley nods against the warm curve of Claire's embrace as shivers wrack her when she spies the knife still in Vena's hand, watches Vena hiss under her breath and twist the blade toward –

Bryn hurries for recklessly before Javier can catch her, grabs the blade head-on, flinches, and tosses it in a clatter of metal. She glares at the weapon, now contaminated. Looks to her palm, notices the slash scored across her skin. Her eyes widen at the blood as she steps backward, cradling her wrist with a curse.

Harper notices his sister and narrows his eyes at Vena, kicks the blade further and finally releases her with disgust. "Are you really _that _sick?" he demands and looks over Tinsley. "First, you try to kill your _former _best friend and then you attempt to turn the knife against me? If I wasn't in my right mind, I think I would've done the same to you."

Bryn's eyelids lower consciously and she tightens hold on her wrist. Javier crosses over to her and unclasps a cufflink, pressing it to her wound and slowing the dangerous flow of blood. She doesn't struggle this time. Vena looks over him hopefully and watches him avoid her eyes, concentrating solely on relieving the pressure in Bryn's hand.

"Javier …" Vena mumbles and continues staring. He still doesn't turn and Bryn turns to him, almost knowingly.

"Get out of here." Claire snarls, voice shaking. "I think you've done enough damage." Her eyes narrow and teeth grit behind glossy lips. "I swear if I ever see your face again I'll make the rest of your sorry life miserable."

Vena's eyes widen in realization and she bites her trembling lower lip. She glances back to Javier as a last resort. "Please, Javier, believe me." she pleads, each word cracking. "You know, I wouldn't have done this without reason."

He still doesn't speak or meet her somber eyes; he checks Bryn's hand and meets Harper's eyes. Harper backs away from Vena and moves toward Tinsley and Claire, swinging Tinsley's arm over his shoulders as he helps steady her.

Claire breaks the silence instantly. "Maybe if you didn't cheat on him, he probably would believe you." she murmurs and dusts questionable powder off her slip. Javier's eyebrows arch and he drops Bryn's hand, fingertips stained red as he approaches Vena and Claire.

"What are you talking about?" he asks them both. Claire's lips come together and she looks away, tears sparkle in Vena's eyes as she snuffles, directing eyes downwards. "You couldn't have … you weren't _that –_"

Claire steps toward Bryn and touches her arm. "Let's give them a moment." she tells the brunette. "I think they need it."

Bryn bobs her head and holds the fabric herself as she, Claire, Harper, and Tinsley head out, closing the door when gone, and only when the clonk of heels and boots distance, Javier glares his worse and approaches.

"You _cheated _on me?" Javier demands, blood boiling. The anger in his tone unalike his typical peace. "How _could _you? I thought you were different, Vena!"

"I didn't mean to, Javier!" she screams, coughing on tears. "I never meant to hurt you! I was out of line, _please_. I don't know what I was thinking!"

"That's the thing … you weren't thinking." he sneers, lowering his voice darkly. "And who was it with then? Mr. Baxter? Not surprising. I knew you always had a thing for him and I thought cheating on me was bad. Killing him was much worse."

In a flurry of sobs and hysteria, Vena collapses to the floor and submerges herself in tears.

"I'll do anything!" she sobs, looking back up at her ex-lover miserably. "I _love _you, Javier! Just please, please forgive me! I did wrong! I'm terrible! I betrayed my friends and I used that guitarist boy! Just give me one last chance and I'll never do wrong again!" She slumps forward and doesn't bother wiping at her spilling tears, which left charcoal splotches on her face. "_Please_."

His face is set as he shoves his knuckles into his coat pockets, heading closer. He doesn't help her or meet her eyes, he finds his gaze on the knife lying across the tiles.

"I have no reason to after all you've done." he says and is surprised to find his voice stable. "In some sick way, I'm glad you admitted everything but that still doesn't give me a logical enough reason to accept you. I won't bother listing things because you ruined enough lives with just words. I won't turn you in for your previous offense but I'll let you off with a warning."

Vena sniffles and fingers the inky blotches of smeared mascara on her cheeks. "W-What?"

He ignores her feebleness and finally brings himself to catch her gaze. "If you _ever _show your face here again I will gladly plan my revenge and ruin your life as you did others. And with the generous help of Claire, it's highly possible so I suggest you flee New York as fast as you can." He nods towards the knife. "I also suggest you dispose of that. I doubt you'll get resignation for having a Blackwell's blood stain it."

Vena, no longer speaks, as she encircles her arms around herself, sobbing and howling like a tortured animal.

Javier looks down at her for the last time and heads for the door, exiting with parting words. "I hope you get exactly what you deserve."

And once the door is shut and he's hurrying down the hall, feels his face sting wetly as he listens to Vena's wails from afar.

**X**

"_Tinsley_!"

_Tinsley doesn_'_t bother turning as she_'_s unable to take her eyes off her flaming school_._ Her eyes are narrow and the only thing that brightens them is the fire_. _Javier runs up and wipes his face_,_ pants when in reach and looks to the burning building in disbelief_._ He doesn_'_t straighten his loose tie or smooth creases off his blazer_,_ only puts a hand on her shoulder and feels her shiver_.

"_Are you okay_?"_ he asks and doesn't receive a response_._ He tries for another question_. "_Where_'_s Vena_?_ Have you seen her_?"

_Sirens screech and men follow out in rows_,_ some enter the building in protective gear and others prepare hoses and extinguishers_._ The lead chief shoos teens and demands them to leave_._ A few disappear into the bushes and others flee to watch from afar_.

_Steven and Matt are hidden in a cluster of trees as they watch_._ Matt narrows his eyes and nods in the direction of a cracked bottle_._ Steven only shakes his head and keeps shut_.

_Claire hides behind a large oak and digs her nails into the bark_.

"_She_'_s gone _…" _Tinsley mutters_,_ sounding just as broken as she looked_. "_She_'_s gone_."

_Javier says nothing and guides Tinsley away from the scarring scene_.

_Tears spring to Claire_'_s eyes and an ashamed Tinsley keeps her eyes downcast_.

_A half_,_ unheard voice crackles on a walkie-talkie_._ The words only bring terror_.

"_We_'_ve found someone_!"

Tinsley falls against Harper's bicep sadly. He stares down at her as she stays against him without enough energy to rise. Her hair hung in a mess and her lower lip swelled. Claire sits close and shuts her eyes. At least she had one less thing to worry about. Her friend was safe and it was all that mattered.

But the look in Harper's eyes was different. He looked at Tinsley with eyes full of compassion – _protectiveness _– during the time she knew him, he never once looked at her like that, even when they were dating. At the time, he was only withdrawn and secluded but now that they were separated and Tinsley was at his side, he was friendlier.

"I feel terrible." Harper tells Claire as Tinsley shifts her position unconsciously. "This brings back memories with Bryn and how bad she was messed up by _him_. I could never do anything right."

Claire sits strongly once she sees Harper's face. He always beat himself up over what occurred in the past. He was too much of a good person and even though she was still mad at him for always picking Tinsley, she wouldn't just watch him degrade himself.

"I know you feel terrible about all this." Claire ponders and leads a hand along his shoulder. "I do, too. I was there when Bryn nearly lost her life. I just stood there and don't know why but I had never seen anyone so beaten. It _hurt_." Her eyes fall in shame. "Tinsley's my best friend and seeing her look like this is worse. Beating yourself up every day won't do anything but cause stress. Bryn's fine, Tinsley will be so just stop worrying."

He smiles and nods. "Yeah." he agrees. "She will, won't she?" He falls back against the leather and keeps his smile. it didn't hold the same affection from when he looked at Tinsley. But, hey, at least it was a smile. "Thanks, Claire. You're a good friend."

"You're welcome." She forces and begins tapping her heels. "You're a great friend, too."

Like how she added great instead of his good?

And that was probably what hurt most.

It was all she'd ever be in Harper's mind: a friend. A simple friend. A movies-and-pizza friend. Practically nothing in a guy's life.

Harper looks out the window and narrows his eyes in search of Bryn and Javier. He doesn't find them as quick as he'd like and with uncharacteristic impatience, he looks to Claire. "Why don't we take you two home? I suppose they can always find cabs."

Oh, Javier will _looooove _that.

Claire blinks. "You sure? It's pretty late and –"

He shrugs and gives the directions to Claire's house. "They'll manage."

**X**

Javier descends the creaking stairs. The wetness on his face is impassive as he feels more trickle. He did the right thing. He got what was off his chest and finally stood up to Vena telling her all she deserved. But he had to admit, he wasn't satisfied. He had to battle himself to hold back tears when he saw her disheveled appearance.

He finally scrubs off a streak and coughs. He wasn't a man, real men didn't cry over their past loves. Maybe for injuries but he was walking out of a sleazy motel crying over his ex-lover, and was now shamed indefinitely that he ever loved her in the first place.

She was terrible and had treated his friends so badly. Tinsley, Claire, Harper, _Bryn_.

It wasn't fair to just watch the people closest to you suffer so he finally lashed out and as result; witnessed waterworks. Something he never thought he'd see with Vena, who only cared about her lusty self. Who hated meaningless tears and children alike, who probably even hated _him_.

She had never admitted her love to him until today and that was what hurt most. She sounded like she meant it and after all that happened he rejected her in the cruelest way.

They always did have a loveless romance.

Before he knew it, he was already done with the stairs. The reception desk still empty and tiny lights illuminated the lounge. Deep and utter silence kept the lobby eerie.

He inhales a harsh breath and hears a muse from behind him.

"Finally."

He whips to see Bryn leaning back against the exposed wood of the wall. She narrows her eyes and crosses her arms at perfect ease. "You must've really stabbed Vena in the back because she's been sobbing upstairs for nearly an hour." Javier doesn't reply and she holds her bloody palm up, waving. The stained fabric which once halted her bleeding was discarded. "You alright? You look half-dead."

"Stop talking," he drawls, ice piercing calm. "you're not making anything better. I did what was right."

She follows and his brow furrows as she catches the door he had hoped would slam in her face. "I know you did. I wish I was smart enough to do the same but running away with tears in your eyes won't help. You need to talk to _someone_."

He stops halfway down the path and faces her. "I'm not crying." he snaps. "Why don't you just mind your own business? You don't know what true pain is. You wouldn't be able to handle it."

No one would ever be able to deal with his pain.

"I've went through a lot of sick things in the past." she admits and hurries in front of him, keeping her place confidently. "And if you hadn't realized my dad died. Plus, hotshot, men _do _cry. Harper cried when our parents divorced, Matt did when he nearly lost all function in his hand, and Steven when his parents disowned him." A dent mars her brow and she touches her cheekbone. "By the way, you're crying right now."

He grunts and his arms encircle her waist as he forces her over and pins her to the motel door. Her form goes perfectly rigid under his hands and though he knew he wasn't hurting her, he felt like he was hurting himself as his fingers tighten.

"Fine, I'm _crying_." he spits. "Are you happy? I'm finally crying! I'm a man in your standards! You went through your father's death and that was all! You have never dealt with heartbreak and when you have I hope you tell me because maybe _then _we might be equal!" His grip hardens again and the pour of tears becomes harsher. "For now, we don't belong together and I doubt we ever will because it's like you said, we're _different_."

She keeps a stern face through his lecture and nods. "We are different. But did you ever hear of that stupid saying, opposites attract? Dorky but logical. You have most things I dream of. A family that loves you and parents that cater to your every whim. I'd be lucky enough to have my mother _smile_ at me." She uncoils his fingers easily. "I've had my heartbroken before and faced it worse so be glad you had it like this."

She smirks sickeningly. "We may be different but we're much more alike than you think."

And she walks away.

With something he didn't have at the moment.

Pride.

**X**

Vena continues sobbing as she lies coiled like a frightened animal on the dirty floor. Her face a mess of streaked makeup and horrendous tears. She feels her heart thud dangerously as she clenches a fist and pounds it to the tiles, bruising her knuckles, undoubtedly. Her psychotic sobs distance her from all normal.

Her sniffles come to no end as she continues, regretting all. She should've never come back. She only ruined the already crippled relationships she had with her former friends and now was left with nothing. She had _no one_.

She'd be better off running out New York as quick as she could with her last bits of dignity.

Because that was all she had left: broken dignity. Her parents barely even accounted her anymore and they were especially furious with her for wasting their money to bribe her back into Constance.

She kneads her broken fingernails along the divots in the wood. Eyeliner tears specking it with tiny droplets of black.

A voice, slick as rime surprised her. Just by hearing it she knew she was probably living her last moments.

"_My sweet Vena _..."

Vena rises to see a shadowy silhouette through her tears.

A handsome man in a pressed suit stood. She recognizes him immediately just by his dimpling smile, he shoves a hand in his pocket and cocks his head adorably, looking like a foreign businessman.

"G-Gavin …" Vena stammers in hazy sadness. "You … I thought –"

"_Thought I was dead_, _didn_'_t you_?" he questions, voice as fluid as honey. "_But your good ol_'_ Mr_._ Baxter has come back to haunt you because I seem just as cruel as you_, _apparently_." Vena stifles a sob and tries to dab smears of ruined makeup. "_You were always the same girl_. _Still am_, _apparently_."

"I-I-I'm not!" she defends. "I've changed! I've grown up!"

He only shakes his head, degrading her. "_You haven_'_t_. _You nearly killed Tinsley and broke young Javier_'_s heart carelessly_. _Those two have changed for the better but you_'_ve only worsened_." Vena lets more tears gush as she slumps in defeat, acceptance. "_I_'_m not as ashamed as I thought I'd be_."

"You're ashamed of me?" she demands through misery. "I thought you loved me!"

"_Once_. _I can_'_t admit that anymore_." He shakes his head at himself this time and brushes his fingers through his bangs. "_You_'_ve committed such sins you_'_d be lucky if anyone would ever love you again_."

Vena sat up and collapses back against the table, lower lip trembling as her eyes fill with tears. "I'm so sorry …"

"_It_'_s not me you should be apologizing to_. _You_'_ve hurt too many and the sins you_'_ve committed are absolutely inhuman_." He sighs and tilts his head to gaze at the ceiling, cobwebbed in filth. "_In the words of your exe_,_ I hope you get exactly what you deserve_." Seconds later, he vanishes into thin air and once more Vena collapses in sobs.

The door to the motel swings and she jumps, cowering away from an opposing figure.

The girl in the doorframe is firm. Black ponytail on her shoulder and is blessed with a curvaceous physique. She cracks her knuckles and smirks, striding in as she looks around – eying each fallen pill, smatter of white powder, the dirty knife.

"Hey, sis," she greets, voice broad with a Scottish brogue. "You won't _believe _who called me and said a certain bitch needs her ass kicked. I think you might know someone under the initials JD." She pauses and steps back. "Oh, wait. I doubt your roomies deserve to see." She kicks the door shut with her boot and flexes gloved fingers. "I'm gonna enjoy every damn second of 'dis."

The screams reverberate down the halls like gunfire.

**X**

The sky is wild with big clouds. No rain falls and no thunder approaches and that makes some glad, others are stunned as they march into the wire-fenced cemetery. A blonde is first to enter. Her tresses pinned into a feathery headpiece, a veil over her face. She wears a black lace dress with puffy shoulders, clenched in her hands are the finest roses.

Another follows. This time a boy with tousled golden-brown hair and a blank expression. He looks around cautiously and trails in, making a beeline for a tomb. He sports a blazer, collared shirt, and slacks. His shoes are silent on the dewed grass as he keeps eye on the blonde's back.

Two more girls enter, one succeeding the other. One has brown hair and wears a fitted black dress, holds lilies as her stilettos sink through the muddy dew. The girl behind her is just as quick, scarlet curls arranged high and a long trench over her blouse and denim shorts, slashes accent the knees of her striped tights.

Another man enters. His old sneakers squeak on choppy grass. He wears a brown jacket and black denim. His hand leisurely fiddles with his watchband, his black hair is smooth and his eyes glint.

Solely, a blonde entrances and puts a hand to his jaw. Eyes dull, classic red roses in hand, and only the surrounding solemnness shadows him.

The last three enter, a girl: usual tangles in a sleek ponytail, wearing a black leather jacket over a graphic tee, glistening black leggings, and Doc Martens. One of the men has uncombed blonde hair and a hoodie over a faded tee, jeans, and a sloppy black tie, a duffel bag loose in his arm. The last boy has a choppy shag and looks unexpectedly calm, wears Ray Bans and chains hooked to the belt loops of his torn jeans.

The pretty blonde halts in front of the tombstone somberly, downturns when lowering the bouquet, closes her eyes and her bottom lip trembles. She doesn't cry. Harper places his hand comfortingly on Tinsley's shoulder.

"You'll get through this." he murmurs. "_We_'_ll _get through this."

She forces a nod and lets her silence linger.

Claire steps for and places the lilies close to the roses, puts her fingertips to her cheek and keeps her emotions collected as she stares down the headstone.

Dean strides to Claire and encircles her in his arms, leans her head into his chest and shuts her eyes as dents mar her brows.

Floria looks back at the people behind her before buttoning up her coat, stares at the sky and offers respective prayer. Dean cranes his neck and looks back with a smile as he tightens his arm around the queen bee.

From behind Floria, Bryn approaches and smirks. They high-five like they are at a party.

Javier passes them and lays roses in the dirt, shuts his eyes and backs away, shoving his hand into his pocket as he takes place by Claire and Dean.

Matt smiles at Floria as he claps her shoulder friendlily, closing his fists. Bryn yawns and stretches, gauze on her palm.

Steven drops his bag and unzips it, he calls for Matthew and begins unloading firework launchers, setting them in the grass. He searches for his lighter and is immediately faced with an old scratched Zippo, a silent Steven accepts it, flicks it on, and starts the fireworks.

Floria giggles. "Aren't those illegal?"

Bryn shrugs and peers over her shoulder. "Do you really think they care?"

Dean reaches over and taps Claire's shoulder, motioning towards the fireworks as Steven sets them off. He grins and she smiles as Steven slides across the grass, staining his palms.

"Damn, these are hard." Matt tells his companion, backing away as they shoot into the sky. "There they go. Say bye to our buddies, Steven."

Steven feigns ecstatic with a wave as the fireworks burst in pops of color, illuminating the gray sky in splashes of glittery pink confetti. Tinsley startles at the explosion and Javier looks to watch them shimmer. Tinsley looks to the grave as Harper pulls her close.

A tear tremors down her face and stays frozen on her chin. She grits her teeth and keeps her mouth tight.

Harper frowns and leans to put his jaw on her shoulder, watching along beside her.

The fireworks continue crackling and exploding as Matt returns to Floria's side. Bryn stares down at Steven as he stays down, staring at the mulch with wide eyes.

Bryn separates from her friends and heads for Adler, a confused Javier watches.

She drops down in front of him and places her hand on his lanky arm, eyes glinting worriedly. "Hey, man," she whispers and feels his tremors. "Steven, hey, you okay?"

Matt nearly senses his friend's dismay without another word, heads for him and puts a hand to his shoulder. "Steven, what's wrong?"

Steven shakes his head and tears gather in his eyes. "H-Heat of the moment, guys," he says and struggles for words. "I-I-I … don't know, man. It's been so long since I felt so sad before." He pushes his fist into the dirt and a sob furthers him.

"Hey, it's cool. Relax." Matt coaxes and Steven lowers his face, tears sinking down.

Javier leaves Claire and Dean and crouches closely. He puts a hand on the blonde's knee and his face resembles a caring brother. "Too sad for words?"

Steven bobs his head and says nothing as tears escape his eyelids. He collapses against Bryn and Javier, sobbing and striking half-fists over them.

Bryn brings her mouth into Steven's hair and runs her fingers through it as Matt is silent. Javier puts his hand on Steven's back and doesn't bother to quiet.

From afar, Tinsley and Harper are close to oblivious to the fireworks as they watch the scene of comfort commencing.

And that is what we like to call a _true _family.


	15. Chapter 15

_Three days earlier _…

A teenage boy gets off at Grand Central Station, swings his messenger bag across his back and brushes his fingers casually through his gel-slicked hair. Shoves a fist into his worn jacket as his hair falls back into place. Businessmen clutching briefs skid past him as he stands frozen, admiring their quick paces and the noise their shoes made on the flooring.

Once he hears the train beginning takeoff for their next routes, he steps through a crowd of well-dressed lawyers and excited tourists.

There's so _much _here, even if only a train station. Everything's just so different.

Foreign.

That's what he feels: _foreign_. Because of how he looked, because of how he walked, because of where he came from.

Everyone dressed differently and walked with a more rapid, overconfident step. He needed to be like that here. He needed to be strong and willing like these people, who looked like they dominated the world as they sped to their destinations.

Chin up and shoulders squared, he moves to stride and precisely narrows his eyes as he searches for the closest direction to his own endpoint.

Not great with directions in something he barely knew, he approaches a woman standing by the train, checking the time on her golden Gucci watch. As he reaches her, she jumps at his presence and nearly drowns when in his eyes, which possessed the color of sunlight reflecting off muddy waters.

He spoke first, mostly because of her loss of words from his boyish handsomeness. "Now, ma'am, if you don't mind me. Do you know of the nearest route to … ah –" He sneaks a glance at the document in his hand, meeting her eyes once again. "Midtown Manhattan?"

She nods and directs a topaz-clad forefinger to a path flooded with escalators as the people hurry to reach them. "Right through there. Head up the escalator and the next stairs on your right-hand side and you'll be outside in an instant."

He nods after processing her information. "Thank you," he says and dips his head. "Have a good day."

Dimples crease the edges of her mouth in a smile. "Likewise."

And he heads to the escalators, patting a gloved hand on the banister as he smiles at what would soon be his home.

**X**

"Mhmm, gphma, yphna, hungry …"

From underneath the table, Bryn lodges her heel into Steven's sneaker. He startles, wipes drool off his chin with a textbook, and tosses it onto the ground. Matt watches in amusement as Steven dries his chin, cursing vulgarly, lifts his foot up onto an empty seat to make sure his toe isn't severely damaged.

"Come on, man, I was only sleeping." Steven drawls to Bryn, who keeps her eyes on him blankly. Circles hollow beneath her painted eyelids, clearly due to lack of proper sleep. "What's wit you? You look as dead as Betty White."

"Just exhausted." she replies. "You would be, too, if you had to listen to your brother snoring from down the hall. Plus, I had to study all this stuff for the music teacher. I'm freaking because I finally have to teach the new student for Mr. Man's afterschool class."

Steven smiles sheepishly and lifts his shoulders. "I'm just tired and –"

"Hungry, right?"

Bryn jumps when Steven slams his palms on the table, pointing a quivering finger at Matt, who is unaffected. Steven continues to glare at him with a dimpled smirk.

"Bitch, stay outta my head!" he yells and Bryn cracks a smile. "How the hell you know?"

Matt shrugs and cocks a brow. "Lucky guess, I suppose."

"Hey."

For half a moment, Bryn had considered the voice to be Javier's. Maybe she was finally getting the apology she deserved since Tinsley's drugged kidnapping and the anniversary of the teacher's death. But so far there's been nothing, only silent backlash as he's been avoiding her since their argument. She didn't care though. Not if he treated her as terrible as Vena did him.

The man before them was tall with pride. His brown hair spiked and unmasked intensity in his eyes. His mouth twists and his gaze is purely serious. He didn't wear a St. Jude uniform but a gray pullover sweatshirt and dark jeans with tears in the knee. He casually folds a hand in his pocket and stares between them.

"Do any of you know a –" He takes a glance at the paper in hand. "Bryn … Blackwell? The music teacher-dude told me to come find her."

Bryn raises her hand. "Present." she calls from beside Stradlin, eyes narrow. "You new? I don't think I've seen you here before."

He smiles. "I moved here a while ago, I'm Kenny. Kenny ... Ciccone."

Steven nods between Matt and Bryn. "Kenny, dude. No need for formalities. We don't use that here, especially if Bryn's your teacher."

"And since I am –" Bryn begins, smoothing down her skirt as she glides towards him. "Why don't you join me for a coffee-run? To show people how I'm actually human and actually take coffee breaks like any normal person." She meets Steven's eyes and they share smirks.

He shoves her arm. "Fine, but you're paying."

She walks ahead and looks back to smirk. "Next time, you are."

They watch them walk off as Steven throws his head back and groans.

"Damn, I wish I could hook up with someone _that _easily!"

**X**

Claire and Tinsley sit on the bleachers as they watch Harper's lacrosse match. Tinsley watches with intrigue as Claire does proudly at who she once dated. It was insane how they both looked at him with different eyes: Tinsley's in fascination, Claire's in greed.

"I've never realized how talented he was," Tinsley breathes as Harper is swift on the field. The coach observes his step thoroughly. "He's an athlete and his sister's a musician. It's cool how talented people are." Claire keeps her eyes solely on Harper and nods at Tinsley though she doesn't really care for what she what saying.

Was it so wrong to like him _and_ Dean? It's not like she'd ever hook up with him again. He didn't want her anymore. He already had his sights on Tinsley and spent more time with the guys than he did her and always called her selfish. She was spending time with Tinsley, was with Dean yesterday, and the day before she went to see Javier.

He could at least show consideration and spend reasonable time with her.

"He always was." The words slip before she can stop them. Tinsley doesn't pay mind as she hurriedly stops to nod, not bothering to turn around as she watches Harper with glinting eyes. "I think he always will be too … it's just his thing."

"A Blackwell thing." Tinsley corrects and finally looks away from Harper. "Bryn's great, too. She's really talented and is even trying to teach _me _how to play guitar."

"I wish her luck with that," Claire jokes and they share smiles. "I can only wonder how she'll teach the person she's supposed to receive today. She's pretty impatient at times."

In a synchronized movement, Harper shoots the ball past a mid-fielder, blocking their strike and effortlessly scoring. The goalkeeper collapses to the grass after a failed attempt of catching the ball.

The other fielders surrounding Harper cheer and scream for him as Tinsley jumps up, a bright grin on her face as she claps and whoops. Claire doesn't make as big of an effort to cheer as she stares over him with a smile.

"Go, Harper!" Tinsley yells as he removes his helmet to shake the hair out of his eyes. His smile stays when he looks over them. "You show 'em!"

He chuckles and puts his helmet back on, adjusting it correctly. "Will do." He returns to his team as the ball is thrown. The game is restarted. The coach continues watching, eyes skimming the field and the frantic steps of his team.

Tinsley sits once she sees Harper already concentrating on scoring. She catches Claire's gaze happily and notices how her demeanor has changed. She has suddenly grown rigid and quiet, her brows furrowed and a dent on her forehead. Tinsley's smile fades and she raises her brows. "Are you okay?" she asks. "You look … stressed."

"Far from it." she answers, words throaty. "I've just had a lot on my mind. Nothing too important. Wasn't Harper great out there?"

All apprehension disappears from Tinsley's face as she nods. Stray giggles escaping her. "Yeah, he is. I wonder where Bryn and Javier are. I haven't seen them all day."

Claire shrugs and smirks. "Who knows? They're probably together." she says with a gossipy smile. "They may even be dating."

The blonde looks away to laugh and suddenly notices a couple coming into view. They chat and laugh like a couple as the girl hands something to him, she looks to him and a warm smile graces her. She shoves his arm and motions for him to follow as she approaches Tinsley and Claire.

The queen bee's eyes nearly bulge out of her skull. "Bryn has a new guy _already_?"

The guy follows chivalrously. Before Tinsley could formulate a proper reply, her smile becomes a smirk when she sees them and she directs her hand to the man, holding her coffee.

"Hey, guys," she greets. "I wanted to introduce you guys to my student, Kenny."

Even though they didn't know who Kenny was, they both had the same thought.

_Hotness_.

Kenny smirks, something like Bryn's. "It's cool to meet you both," he murmurs and narrows his eyes, adding secrecies to his stunning gaze. "Did anyone ever tell you both that you're both gorgeous?" Claire and Tinsley reply to his comment with their most dazzling smiles.

"Damn. Flirting so soon?" Bryn inquires and snatches her coffee back. "The only compliment you gave me was how my hair was crazy-looking." She tangles her fingers through it.

"I'll give you all the compliments you want because you're just as." he rasps, Bryn laughs and rolls her eyes as she punches his chest. He chuckles. "What? I mean it. You're damn beautiful."

"See her in the morning and you won't think the same."

Bryn whips around to smack Harper as he tucks his helmet under an arm. They hadn't even noticed his game had finished. Kenny was being too amusing. Harper narrows his eyes at who was complimenting his little sister and looks on cautiously. He thought Javier was the only flirt he'd ever know.

Within seconds, Kenny holds out a hand to Harper. "Hey, man." he replies. "I'm Kenny Ciccone. I'm guessing you're Harper Blackwell?"

Harper doesn't shake his hand. "I'm surprised you know." he says, looking over Bryn, who smirks proudly.

He grins widely and turns his head to Bryn. "Yep, teach here, has been telling me 'bout all her friends and shit. Steven Adler, Matthew Stradlin, Tinsley Hastings …"

"Crammed a lot into his head, didn't you?" Harper questions, reaching to accept Kenny's hand but Kenny finally takes it back once he sees, slicking a hand through his hair in mock-cockiness.

At that, Harper lets a smile fall to his face as Kenny directs at Bryn. "Don't murder me." He chuckles, holding his palms forward defensively, jokingly looks to Bryn. "She's the one who taught me that stupid move."

"_Cool _move." Bryn clarifies, sipping her decaf. "I'm gonna turn him into a mini-me by the end of the day."

Harper places a pretend-sympathetic hand on Kenny's shoulder. "I wish you luck, my friend."

Kenny grins. "Thanks, I know I'll need it!" He swings an arm casually over Bryn's shoulders and her brow furrows as she throws it off. "You betta teach me somethin' good, Miss Blackwell!"

"You take what I give you."

His grin widens and he taps his fingers to his forehead in a salute. "Yes, ma'am!"

Claire hides her laughter as a smile comes to Tinsley's face.

"I'll see you guys later," Bryn promises. "I'm gonna try to teach this smartass some good music." She waves and heads off, Kenny in tow.

Harper blinks and swigs his Vitamin Water. "I sure wish I could get someone that fast."

**X**

Dean accepts a cup of black coffee from the clerk behind the Starbucks counter as Floria waits with him, already draining what was left of her latte. He smiles and they both head to school, savoring their lunch break. Floria smirks as they pass middle schoolers. She whips her curls out her face and shakes the ice in her empty drink. "You sure your girlfriend won't throw a fit for hanging with me?" she asks, chewing the straw. "She seems to hate every girl in the world."

"As long as she doesn't see you," Dean claims and gulps coffee. "so stay hidden or she'll rip your head off."

Floria's smirk becomes a grin and she nods, springy curls bouncing. It was hilarious how he didn't deny Claire as his girlfriend unless he didn't realize her response. But what if he liked her? It wasn't that she had a problem with it but Claire was rude and ruthless. She wouldn't want someone like her using Dean.

No one deserved that, especially him. He was one of the sweetest guys at St. Jude's other than that man, who may or may not go there, Hunter.

That … Hunter was such a charmer and she was surprised at how much she blushed. She never blushed and stuttered so much in her life, not even when she was with Harper. And who knows? She might never see him again. It's been weeks since they had another encounter.

And in some indifferent way, she found herself wanting another.

She couldn't refrain from sighing as she bites harder on the straw.

Dean places a hand on Floria's forearm. She hops out of her thoughts and looks up. "What's up with you?" he asks, single brow arched. "You seem glum."

"I just have too much on my mind," she says and that isn't a lie because she's been thinking nonstop. "Nothing important, just my grades and my broken bass. I'm an idiot, sometimes. I need to get it together and I'm completely neglecting time." She rakes fingers furiously through her ringlets. "My accounting teacher always yells at me for being so reckless."

"Well … in words of Bryn: '_Tell her to shove it_.'" Floria giggles and throws her cup in the nearest trash. "Don't worry and though I don't know much about music. Just head to the teacher in Constance. I'm sure you can always borrow one of his instruments."

Well, that solves _two _of her problems.

She still worried about her friends and her moneyless situation. She could barely afford her apartment and just that was expensive. She envied Bryn and Harper. They inherited a mansion and their father's fortune. Sometimes, they had nothing to worry about.

But they were like her. Something was always on their mind.

"I guess," she breathes and turns to Dean, a thankful smile on her face. "you give pretty good advice."

"I know. I should start an advice column. I'd be good at listening to feelings."

"Careful," she cautions, her smile in perfect place. "You may even swing the other way."

His eyes grow round. "No, _thanks_. Not in my lifetime."

"You never know …"

"Never say that again, okay?" he tells her in complete seriousness. "I'd rather date an inanimate object before I decide to switch."

"You are _such _a guy."

**X**

Javier reaches Tiffany's and even though he didn't necessarily have any interest to come in. He was only looking to purchase a gift for his mother. Her birthday was coming and he did have a heart unlike his shameless brother, who wasted their fortunes across the globe. Abusing it on rich malts and cheap blondes.

Sounds a lot like him, doesn't it? That would be a no. However, he did most of those things, he certainly wouldn't use his parents only for money. They meant something to him, more than just _moolah providers _as his brother called them.

When he enters, he's immediately greeted by a woman. He forces one of his rare polite smiles and strides to another worker behind the glass counter displaying varieties of gold engagement rings and birthstone-encrusted brooches. His mother wouldn't like any of that. She was picky when it came to the jewelry with the exception of her wedding ring.

The question of marriage recently became tough. He never imagined himself being married or at least engaged. He was always flirting and being his usual womanizing self. He didn't have time to tie himself down to one person. Tinsley always said to Vena when they were together that they should get married and have kids. She always went on to say how good-looking their kids would be.

Vena always seemed disgusted with children. The mere thought would sink her in disgust. He never imagined himself with a kid either. He knew he wouldn't be able to take care of one as mentioned before. He never had time. He was either drinking or organizing his life.

Vena left him flat when they were young and the questions of engagement no longer came up.

He didn't need to be worrying about the future, anyway. He only had to keep thinking about the present because that's where he was.

It was all that mattered.

What Bryn had told him the night he finally let Vena go wandered through his mind. He screamed and sobbed as she stood calm, watching angry tears dirty his face like rainfall. Her eyes emotionless and lips pursed. She wore a stiff face that looked carved from marble.

All her words were meaningful, even though he didn't really process them until he had gotten home and drunk himself into abyss.

Bryn's final words to him rung like white noise.

"_We may be different but we_'_re much more alike than you think_."

They were.

"What may I help you with, sir?" the woman questions, voice laced with fake concern.

"I'd like to buy a necklace," he stats, turning from her warm eyes to check his watch. "for my mother. Something fit for a socialite."

Because that is exactly what she was. A lovely Spanish socialite or so the tabloids said.

The clerk hurries to bring their most extravagant diamonds forward as Javier, hearing a sheepish voice, went to watch a conversation engage between another clerk and a girl at his far right.

She dons bronze curls that reach her shoulders and inquiring green eyes, which were several shades lighter than the leaves of a palm. A scowl mars the flawless skin of her forehead as she hefts her Prada bag onto her shoulder, sifting through the pockets of her Burberry coat.

"One moment." she stalls as she looks for her lost possession. The woman behind the counter looks impatient as she stares, a small ring with a missing gem in her palm. "I have the extra money here somewhere. Just spare me a moment."

The woman rolls her eyes and frowns. "Take your time …"

Javier continues watching the scene for a few more seconds before he grabs a fifty from his pocket and thrusts it in the girl's face. She blinks and stares at Javier with timid eyes. He doesn't lower his hand or the fierceness in his glare as he places it in front of her.

"Take it," he offers. "Don't think anything of it."

Reluctantly, the girl reaches but hesitates when her fingers find it. "Are you … sure?"

"Yes, don't think much of it."

She smiles gratefully and hands it over to the woman slowly, cautiously.

He doesn't reply, only looks away and searches for the clerk to see her chatting on a work phone. He rolls his eyes and leaves without purchasing anything. His mother would have to make do with a Beamon choker –

"Wait!"

In an instant, he recognizes the voice as the girl he assisted. Her curls blowing messily as she smiles through them, brushing them back with manicured nails. "I just wanted to thank you," she chimes sincerely, clutching a blue ring box in her small fist. "I truly am grateful for your assistance and I promise to pay you back somehow."

"There's no need." he responds, even though he already has dozens of ideas in mind. "A mere fifty is nothing."

"I know," she assures. "you _are _Javier Dominguez after all."

He can't hide the confusion from his face. She knew who he was? She sure didn't act like it in the store. He usually received different reactions from girls like her.

Bryn wasn't surprised to meet him either.

"Yes." he announces. "Allow me this, then. Who are you?"

And with a burst of sudden confidence, she holds her hand out to him. "Elle Cullen. It's a pleasure."

**X**

"What are those, Steven?"

"Stupid ass papers."

Matt snatches the paper from his hands and skims them, narrows his eyes, rereads the first sentence before scoffing drily, shoving them into a local trash. Steven doesn't say anything as he throws the manila envelope they came in after.

"Like I said." Steven points out, looking to the papers clogging the bin. "Stupid. Ass. Papers."

The guitarist rolls his eyes and lines his mouth grimly. "I don't know why they sent you copies. I think you'd know already that you were disowned." he snaps and looks over Steven, who rolls his eyes but deep in his honey orbs was regret, looking like he deserved the punishment. "Don't look like that, man. No one deserves this."

"But me, right?" he asks and lowers his gaze to the concrete, knuckles in his pockets. "I must be pretty effed if my parents really wanted me out of their lives."

"That stuff is illegal. I don't know how they got away with it."

Steven lifts his eyes to meet Matt's questioning greens. "Because they're my parents and when you're an addict, your parents rather just cut you off."

He sighs to the sky. "Stop already!" he seethes. Steven looks baffled at the outburst. "Face it. We're all junks. Bryn, me, you, Tinsley … sober or not, we'll always be addicts. We will always be that fucked bunch!"

"I doubt I'll ever be normal."

Matt finally lowers his voice and calms himself. "You're right, _we_ won't. I guess you'll just have to deal with it."

"I think I can." His eyes narrow in humor. "Especially if Bryn stays in that corset more often."

"Say that again and you'll be missing teeth by morning."

In weak fright, Steven backs away as Matt fixes a glare on him. "Come on, man! You were probably thinking the same at the time. She looked _hot_."

"No, Steven. I actually didn't."

In all honesty, he didn't find Bryn necessarily attractive in that. Steven would probably faint if he saw Bryn in it again. He's more infatuated to girls who dress simpler, even if just black jeans and a tee. His best friend thinks differently and would die to see a girl in such a scanty outfit like Bryn's copyrighted creation.

Maybe that's why he's become such good friends with Javier.

No one really trusted Javier, he knew Floria didn't. Dean was neutral seeing as he didn't really know Javier to begin with and Harper was bordering on it since he's been spending an awful lot of time with her.

Did that make him a bad person for not trusting? He was only doing what he deemed right. There wasn't a problem with that.

But he had to admit, he trusted Vena much more than he did Javier.

And another came to mind, something completely uncharacteristic for him.

He was pretty sure he always would.

**X**

"Harper, what do you think of Kenny?"

Harper looks at Tinsley as she meets him with the same wonder. He shrugs as they stride through the Meatpacking District. Bryn never met up with them like she promised and they assumed she went to spend more time with Kenny. In many opinions, she was the luckiest girl in Constance to instruct guitar to someone like Kenny.

She didn't necessarily admit to liking Kenny even though her actions were enough. Flirting before and after the coffee run, they probably had more sparks flying during the first lesson.

It's every girl's dream to spend alone time with a guy.

Who knows? Maybe she'd choose him over Javier. They already seemed so alike attitude-wise and love for rock lifestyles and since Javier and Bryn weren't currently on their better sides, they might just start dating without waiting for anyone's approval.

What kind of drama were they facing now? Life was never normal.

"He's alright, I guess." he admits. "As long as he's nice to Bryn, I'm okay with him."

"You sound so distrustful of him," Tinsley replies as they continue down the pavement. "He seems like a pretty nice guy. She seems to like him."

He rolls his eyes. "She acts like that a lot with guys. You get used to it after a while."

"Well, she acts different around Javier and Kenny."

He raises his brow and hefts his bag onto his shoulder. "Didn't you already know she has feelings for him? She went with him to Claire's party, she was the one who called him to come get you, and he's probably one of the first guys to ever really come into our home."

Tinsley's eyes shimmer in curiosity. "So she does like him."

He kicks the cobblestones distractedly. "Don't tell her I told you. I don't need her to kick my ass. I'm not sure if she feels anything for Kenny but I doubt it. You'll have to ask her yourself. She trusts you enough."

In response, Tinsley's heart skips. She's already been in their home a few times. Bryn hasn't done anything cruel since. So she must be thinking of Tinsley finally as something other than an acquaintance.

"Does she really?" Tinsley inquires, still shocked by his answer. "I thought she didn't like me …"

A smile crosses his face. "She used to hate you," he advises bluntly. "But since you've been good, our worries are in the wind for now."

"I'm glad you both trust me."

"Don't say that. You're great." His smile widens as he continues, his voice lowering almost in suspense. "And whether Bryn did ever trust you … I always would."

A grin gives Tinsley's rosebud mouth shape. "You're way too good."

This time, he grins. Something with affection. "It's a Blackwell thing."

**X**

Javier enters Constance's courtyard the next day. Morning classes have finished as he searches for a rebel known as Bryn Blackwell. He finally considered his apology and after skipping a full day of class, he finally decided that she deserved it after having to deal with his uncalled outburst.

He looks around, eyes searching the slim crooks. A throng of schoolgirls exit and he notices none as Bryn. Tinsley told him she was in today so he should be able to find her, probably packing away guitars and rolling amps in the music room.

She wasn't answering her phone, which also came as a shock. Harper didn't seem worried as he only continued his game when it was brought up.

Was he the only one acting like this? He wasn't worried. He was Javier Dominguez. He didn't have a reason to be stressed.

Lucky for him, he found Claire in the midst of her minions, gossiping. As they chatter, rumors swirling. She listens to their white lies and monologues. She's a good queen bee. The profession has come to be fitting.

He approaches her and she looks away from a handheld mirror to lock eyes with him in confusion, silently urging for an answer. She would never be incredibly harsh around her crowd. She didn't need false rumors spread.

"Have you seen Bryn?" He skips right to the point. There was no reason for small talk. He wanted to get this over with.

She shrugs carelessly and returns to her reflection. "She's in the music room with Kenny."

Kenny? Who the hell? New kid? He wouldn't ask Claire any of this so he stuck with one.

He only knew one _Kenny _from the tabloids.

And he surely knew that he wasn't any better.

"Kenny who? What's his last name?" he asks.

Claire sighs irritably, clicking her compact shut. "Oh, I don't know. Something with a C. Ciccone, I think."

It was all too obvious.

"Thanks," he spits through gritted teeth and hurries inside Constance, nearly bolting through the half-empty corridors. It wasn't that he felt anything for Bryn – he didn't. She just didn't deserve to be hurt by someone like Kenny. He learnt much about him and knew he wasn't the safest to be around because Javier knew his limits –

Kenny shattered his.

Before he knew it, he is already in the doorpost. Eyes wide at Bryn sitting across from Kenny. A smile on her face as she strums a basic hand, fingers righting the guitar as Kenny observes, trying to mimic her as he clutches a guitar incorrectly, angling it before offering her a nervous grin.

"How's this?" he asks, only to receive laughter. "What? I'm not a rock star like you, ya know."

"I'm not but at least I know how to hold a guitar." She leans over and slides his hand across the guitar neck before fixing the instrument in his lap, enclosing her hands in his momentarily. "Like that. Once you learn, you'll be a pro. You look like you could play like Kurt Cobain with the attitude and teen spirit."

He cocks both brows. "Yeah, but I'm hotter."

She rolls her eyes and laughs. "You are so conceited."

"Bryn." Javier manages after seeing their exchange. She snaps over before leaning back with a smirk. "Can I talk to you?" Kenny notices his glare as he trades glances with Bryn before putting his rental down.

"Look, um, I'm gonna use the bathroom, I guess." He gets up and smiles at Bryn, ignoring the awkward pause. "I'll be back."

"Okay." She nods before he exits, not once locking eyes with Javier. She puts her own guitar down and crosses her legs as Javier leans against the seat Kenny just occupied. "What's up? You're finally in the mood to talk to me?"

He ignores the taunt. "Why were you with him?" he demands and is surprised by the chill in his voice. "Are you really _that _naïve?"

"Oh, so you don't even offer apology before you come back to yell at me?" she counters, lips pursuing. "Apparently, everything's still my fault, huh?"

"I was going to before I found out you were with _Kenny_." he snarls the name with special venom. "Don't you know how unsafe he is?"

"It only seems like you're jealous." she sneers. "Everyone is moving on without you. Go hook up with a slut. I won't be at your feet forever. I was already nice to you, as is."

"Nice enough. Hooking up with someone other than you seems pretty damn good." He leans in. "I'm trying to help you here and you're just blowing me off!"

"Because you're trying to wreck my life! I could never do anything without you being such an ass!" she says, raising her voice intensely. "Just stay out of my business! If he hurts me, he does! If he doesn't, _fucking fantastic_. Life is tough, Javier, face the facts."

He scoffs. "Fine, do whatever you want. Don't come crying to me when he fucks you up."

She reclaims her guitar. "Later."

He leaves and is immediately met with Kenny's glare, who reclines against the wall, having just eavesdropped on their argument. He arches a suspicious brow and smirks cunningly. "You know, bloke, it isn't very 'ice to expose someone for who they once were." he drawls, voice thick in an accent. "You don't see me entering your shame of a past."

"If you even bother to hurt her, I swear," he murmurs dangerously. "I'll _kill _you."

"I don't need to. I'm not as cruel. You are Javier after all." He chuckles beneath his breath and brings a hand through his hair. "And you're just a selfless bastard after all."

Javier clenches his fists. Kenny eyes his white knuckles and grins.

"Don't resort to violence," he says and wags a finger. "it is never the answer and what will Miss Blackwell think of you?" He checks his watch. "I would love to continue chatting but I have a lesson to finish." His eyes glint. "Farewell."

He heads back in and Javier just manages to contain his frustration with a new motive.

Revenge.

**X**

**I hope you all enjoyed this chapter with our two newbies, Elle Cullen and Kenny – Ciccone? There's gonna be much more of them and just imagine them as I do… like the oh-so attractive, Matt Bellamy of Muse and Dianna Agron. :)**

**Elle will have a much bigger role, too. So enjoy the chapter!**


	16. Chapter 16

Bryn mimics the cords of 'Ziggy Stardust' on her Gibson with an unsure smile as she thumbs through a guitar manual. She makes it halfway through before she slides it to Kenny, where he resides at her feet, legs stretched and ankles crossed casually, an acoustic Stigma in his lap. He skims and reads the print, looks away, flicks his fingertips along the top guitar strings. "Well, I'm no Keith Richards but I'll learn."

"Yeah," she adds and runs her hand up the neck. "it takes time. I took weeks to learn my first song but it was worth it. Once you learn your first, the rest will be easy."

He doesn't reply and grazes a fingertip along the strings, creating a delicate swell of notes with a sheepish grin, scratching his scalp. "It seems like it." he murmurs and shifts the guitar carefully. "I don't wanna break this. I'll probably get killed if it happens. You have to admit the look on mister's face would be priceless."

A grin crosses her face and she nods. "Right? My friends get so mad for talking like that but I so won't risk that with our teacher. He'd probably write me a discipline report and my brother would kill me." The light in her fades and her smile weakens. "Do you think I'm a bitch for telling Javier off?"

He arches a single brow and leans over to retrieve his coffee, takes a thoughtful sip before grimacing at the taste. His coffee didn't usually taste like this. Today, it was sludge and was usually sugary. He requested Claire to get his coffee today and she came back with it surprisingly quick. She seemed friendly but he couldn't help but find her untrustworthy.

Mostly because she was one of Javier's friends.

And he most certainly didn't like him after he tried to expose him for something he no longer was.

It would be satisfying to keep Bryn with him since she was beginning to trust him more than the Dominguez.

He had to at least show some consideration.

"If he's a man, I think he'll be fine." Kenny assures with a captivating smirk. "He had after all started the argument with you, right? You were only defending yourself."

She directs her eyes to the empty door and slumps. "He still made me feel like a bitch. It was the nicest I could ever be to someone in an argument … and he still did that." She hauls the guitar onto a rack and props her elbows on her thighs. Kenny's eyes are warm and he is silent, focused on her. Finally, she catches his gaze and blinks. "I'm sorry, I don't think I could play … there's too much on my mind."

He nods understandingly. "Chill, let's just get coffee or something." he says and also reaches to put his guitar down. Bryn rises and smoothes her skirt. "Mine tastes like crap. Damn, your friend must've went to a drug store to get this. It tastes like Tupac's ashes."

Bryn takes the cup from him and drinks. She swallows and reacts, looking ready to vomit, flings the lid off, and looks to see if it was actual coffee but is instead met with a strange brown slush with the stink of kitchen oil.

"Rank." She throws the bile in the trash. "Claire tried to play a trick on you." _At least I hope it's a trick_, as she manages a calm face.

"Ugh, great." He groans and puts his palms flat on his head. "Am I such a bad person?"

Bryn shakes her head and pursues her lips. "No, you're not. I'll get them back eventually."

Kenny holds a hand toward Bryn. "I always loved the friendly game of revenge."

She shakes it agreeably. "I think we'd make a great team."

Their handshake breaks and Kenny swings his arm over her shoulders as they head out. "I already have the perfect plan." He slides his hand down her forearm before catching her hand in his, locking his fingers over hers. Bryn startles. "Don't worry. This'll mean nothing. It's a harmless prank, right? That Javier must've helped with."

She reluctantly wraps her fingers through his. "You're much smarter than you look."

He smiles and leads her down the hall, eyes glinting. "Like, I haven't heard _that _before."

And from afar, a fascinated Constance girl watches, eyes beaming as she holds her phone up and snaps the first photo of Kenny and Bryn, fingers interlaced.

How long will this last? Or is this even a couple? I bet we're all dying to know. Don't worry, my fellow gossipers. I'll be first and will gladly share.

Because your secrets are never safe with me.

**X**

The ringing of Steven's chuckle echoes as Javier turns to roll his eyes. Steven clutches his stomach and wipes a tear, slowly calming himself, choking on air. Dimples firm. "That's one of the lamest tricks and _Kenny_ fell for it? I can't believe he believed your bitch-friend!"

_Bitch_-_friend _is code for our one-and-only, Queen Claire.

Javier no longer commented on the nicknames he gave people. He was becoming used to it seeing as he's become friends with Steven within a short amount of time. Even though at first he only used Steven to get closer to Bryn, he actually turned out to be cool so he was officially accounted as one of his friends.

Which is a surprise since he didn't have many.

Javier lifts a cigarette to his lips and exhales as he relaxes against the marble rails of the Constance steps. "I don't get why she trusts him so much." he drones as Steven turns in confusion, stubbing out his cigarette. "I already told her he's a bad person and she didn't believe me. Ugh, she's so –"

"Gullible." Steven stats, words filthy of smoke as he twists his baseball cap. "But you like her."

Javier's eyes widen and he gave Steven's forming grin a double-take. "_What_? No, no, I don't."

Steven shakes his head and his grin stays in place. "That's what they all say until they end up married with, like, five kids."

"Just the thought." He sighs and exhales. "I will never have five kids. I doubt I'd even be able to handle one."

"You say that now but watch a little Javier Junior be born soon." Steven claims and crushes the stub under the sole of his dirty Nikes. Javier only rolls his eyes and looks back to his cigarette in hand.

"Hey, man. You seen the music room?"

Steven whips his head so quickly he strains his neck when turning to face the girl in front of them. Her dark hair highlighted and accent light. She wears a sleeveless Avril Lavigne T-shirt, a vintage purple scarf, ripped black jeans, Ray Bans. She looks between Steven and Javier, mainly focused on Steven.

Oblivious as always, Steven points at Constance's closed doors. "It's in there." he drawls like it was the perfect answer. "I don't know where but it's close. You can't miss it, man. It looks like _something_."

"Thanks, man," she answers and folds her arms across her chest, then leans in and takes the hat off his head. "you'd look much hotter if you actually combed your hair. It looks like the Swiffer Duster." She leans in and brushes her palm across his cheek. Her hand is cold and unfamiliar. He recoils and the girl smirks, her hand leaves his face as she rose up the steps. "See you around, Javier. You too, Steven."

Javier threw his cigarette down the steps and the doors slam. Steven, who stood in shock, caresses his cheek. "Whoa, a pretty girl knows my name," he mumbles and tilts his head at Javier. "You know her?"

Javier nods. "She's Vena's sister. Didn't you know?" He only receives a headshake as response. "I assumed … you knew. She went to Constance for a while. She clearly remembers you."

"I don't remember her … hellooooo, drugs? Hellooooo, pancreatitis?" He balances his palms like unmeasured scales. "I barely remembered my own name. _That_'_s_ how stoned I was."

"I don't know what you were smoking if you couldn't even remember your own name." Javier quips. "I was never even that bad."

"Surprise, surprise," Steven rasps and rolls his eyes. "Speaking the guy who gave me pot freshmen year dozens of times."

"Can't say anything there," Javier finishes and shrugs, extinguishing his cigarette with his shoe. "You win this round, I suppose."

Steven smirks gladly. "Don't be jealous because I'm awesome. I'm just like a G, brotha." He got up from the stairs and Javier narrows his eyes. "I'm gonna go find that hot chick now. Goodbye, _amigo_!"

And before he could give a proper goodbye, Steven crashes face-first into the doors.

**X**

"_Never lay a finger on my girl again_!"_ A man roared_,_ throwing bottles and plates across the floor_._ A whiskey bottle and shot glasses sprayed broken crystal across the wooden flooring_. "_I_'_ll send you to hell myself if you ever do it again! Dirty bitch_!"_ Glass crunched under quick feet as the psycho chased after the fearful waiter_._ They were eventually lost in the black night_.

_Elle sat at the bar and sipped her martini_,_ narrowing her eyes and handing her glass to a shaken barmaid_,_ thrusting bills onto the counter_. "_Keep something for yourself_,"_ She climbed off the ottoman_,_ touching the hem of her Anna Sui dress with a cocktail napkin_. "_I must calm my brother_._ All the money in the world wouldn_'_t be able to fix his problem_."

_She headed off_,_ bronze ringlets tickling her nape as she left_,_ searching for her temperamental brother. The bartenders watched the scene that just played out. _

_And from a few seats away_,_ Javier watched luscious curls disappear into the night as he smoked his joint_._ Two girls kissed his throat as he lowered his joint and stubbed it_._ Intrigued at what just commenced, he shoved the girls away and headed off to witness more._

Elle twirls a tangled curl around her index finger as she walks with Kenny through Dean & Deluca, grabs a can of caramel corn from the shelf, and holds it out with a smile. "Want this?" she asks in warm curiosity. "We haven't been spending time since you met that Blackwell girl."

"I know but I've been trying to perfect my guitar. It isn't very easy, Ells." he explains, voice thick with an accent as he accepts the tin. "Especially when you must pretend to be American and have to lie to such a beautiful girl."

"You're brilliant on the guitar," she chimes. They come into a deserted aisle together. "I don't get why you want to waste your time with someone so low-rate."

"She's not low-rate." Kenny assures as Elle pauses at the end of the aisle to gasp in surprise. "It's true. She's quite 'ice and her guitar skills trample mine. She's great, Elle, if you only gave her a chance."

"I don't need to give anyone I don't know a chance." she grumbles. "You barely know her and you already have feelings for her. Is this going to be another Diana situation? Who needs that now? You surely don't. You locked yourself away in Daddy's villa for _weeks_, remember?"

"Okay, thanks for bringing up Diana, dear sister." Kenny sneers, "I'm going to binge on sweets then throw them up because I'll be an official American once that happens. It seems much better than being English right now."

Elle is already on his heels before he can leave her. "I'm sorry," she feebly apologizes. "that was wrong. We promised to no longer bring her up."

"Well, of course, you break the promise within seconds." he says, voice icy with sarcasm. His venom lightens when Elle's eyes fall downcast in shame. "As long as you don't bring up the subject of my exe again, I'll consider forgiving you."

She smiles and places a hand on his forearm. "That means a lot."

He flicks her hand aside and continues into another aisle. "Yes, yes, I have a heart of gold. I'm _too _nice." He rolls his eyes and smiles. "But I've also decided on a proposition for you, Elle, which I'm sure you'll gladly accept."

Her eyes don't once meet his. "Every time you say that, I usually hate it."

His laughter couldn't be hidden from his tough demeanor as he bursts into hysterics. Other patrons look his way as they pass. After getting himself in-control, he meets her eyes and grins. "How about this? If you meet Bryn, I'll choose to give that man you've been fawning over a chance too." She reluctantly nods and pursues her lips. "And don't worry. Bryn is much more pleasant than that Dominguez."

Elle receives another fit of chuckles as she scoffs.

**X**

"Is it alright if I sit here?" Matt asks when approaching Tinsley, gesturing with his free hand to the empty seat across from her. She looks at him with widened eyes that soften with kindness. She nods and looks back to her sketchpad. He sits and pops open his guitar case, yanking out his Les Paul before he meets Tinsley's gaze. "Thanks, I've been pretty friendless for the past week at least I found you."

"Aw, I'm sorry," she says, looking away from her sketchpad. He positions the guitar in his lap. "I seriously would've come to see you but I've been so busy with Harper and all. Bryn's trying to help me improve the guitar talent I don't have and Claire's been on everyone's backs lately." She flips through the book and grabs her pencil, tapping it on the tabletop. "It's not really a surprise anymore but you know Claire."

He smiles understandingly and slides his hand on the guitar neck. "Yeah, she hates me though." he admits with a chuckle and receives hearty giggles from Tinsley. "Don't be _too _surprised."

The affection in her face doesn't waver. "I'll try." she counters with the same friendly sarcasm. "Oh! And I was wondering … what are you doing this weekend?"

He lifts a brow and chuckles, close to piercing his finger on a cord. "Aren't you taken? I doubt it's normal to ask another guy out when you're in there."

Tinsley leans to punch his arm. "Shut up!" she hisses, giggling. "I didn't mean it like that! You're so gross!"

But she doesn't deny it.

"Fine, why don't you tell me then?" He leans and distracts himself by tuning his guitar. "Because apparently, my response seems _so _wrong."

"It is." she claims friendlily. "But since it's still late in January and not at all close to summer, Claire wants to head to the Hamptons for the weekend. And I was wondering if you wanted to come with?" Before it could become awkward, she raises her palms in defense. "I already asked Dean and Javier. We're going in our cars. I'm gonna ask Bryn and Harper later, too."

Of course, they came everywhere nowadays. He didn't really have a problem with it.

Harper was beginning to act like more of an enemy now even though he isn't one to hold grudges. The thing is, Harper's _too _nice and though he always notices the glares he inflicts on him, his gaze never wavers unless he leans in to kiss Tinsley or pretends to ignore him when he spoke. Their interests were so alike and he knew he'd never share the same feelings or likes with her.

At least not while Harper was present.

"Sure, I'll come," He wouldn't let Harper get the whole weekend alone with her. Who knows what he'd do? "This coming Friday?"

She nods. "Yep, so start working out because there's gonna be a lot of other girls seeing you."

He chuckles and rolls his eyes. "Woooow, you, Bryn, and Claire. What _chicks_."

Her eyes narrow playfully and she pursues her lips. "Doesn't mean we're not good-looking. You'd be lucky to see Claire and me in swimsuits."

"You make it sound like an honor."

"Oh, it is."

_Seriously_,_ S_,_ you_'_d be lucky_._ I_'_d take it rather than leave it_.

**X**

_Is the world ending_?_ I think so if Rocker B is holding hands with our new English hottie_,_ K_,_ who has caught all our eyes_._ Is he as safe as he looks_?_ Let's hope for Rocker B_'_s sake that J will be able to bend like Beckham_.

Claire is first to see the picture of Kenny and Bryn, fingers interlocked on Gossip Bee's page. Her eyes skim every liable detail from the early hours of morning. How fierce Kenny held Bryn's hand, the smirk frozen on her face, the dents marring his, the twinkling in their eyes –

There was so much she was able to use to her advantage and who knows? Ruining another relationship was on her agenda. Plus, she was never the only one to do it. Tinsley had cut her ties with Harper, Vena had messed up one of the best relationships she had with Javier due to the cheating scandal, and Floria had destroyed one of Bryn's old relationships.

But as we know, all those had come with consequences.

In thought, Claire smiles and files her nails as she resides in the courtyard. Her minions left a while ago to retouch their manicures and Bryn undoubtedly left with Kenny nor she or Javier trusted. Yet he had Tinsley, Harper, those outsiders, and Bryn's full trust in hand.

Javier won't be happy if he sees the picture of Kenny and Bryn together, especially holding hands. He hates Kenny enough and just showing him the photo for a moment would send his emotions to the sky.

Just the thought of that priceless reaction seemed amusing that Claire just fought to keep quiet about this new gossip. He'd probably find out before she even had chance to tell him.

She seriously has to bite her tongue to keep quiet about this.

"Hey, Claire," Dean replies when he approaches, taking the seat beside her as she puts away her nail file to greet him with a sparkle in her eye. "what's up? You still going to the Hamptons with everyone?"

"Of course, I wouldn't miss it." she responds with an indifferent sound. "Everyone is staying at my family's Hamptons home after all. You're coming too, right?"

It was amazing how easily she could forget her planning of others demise.

"Yeah," he says with a nod. "I wanted to say thanks. It's really considerate of you to do all this especially since it's barely the New Year. We're barely a week into January. I definitely think the Jitney ride will be worthwhile."

"The _Jitney_?" she repeats, voice rising a few shocked octaves. "Oh, you most certainly aren't taking … _that_." She manages to stifle her gag reflex at the thought of that disgusting tourist bus. "The Jitney is for poor people."

He smiles and arches an eyebrow. "Winnie takes the Jitney."

She rolls her eyes. "My point exactly. I'd rather you take a sailboat." He chuckles at her exaggeration. "Good thing you aren't because you're coming with me in my family's car. I _insist_."

"Claire, you know, you don't have to –"

"I want to." she indicates, a warm smile notifying such. "No friend of mine is going to be taking that … _thing _to the Hamptons on my watch. Especially not you."

His eyes soften as he looks over. "Are you sure it's alright with your parents? I don't really want to get you in trouble or anything."

Honestly, things haven't been _too _great with her parents so this was probably why she was whisking everyone on this trip. She just wanted to get away and not have to deal with her troubled family life. They're thinking about divorce and she would rather not watch because who really _likes _when their parents' divorce?

It was just terrifying how a relationship could go from being on top to its deathbed. Their relationship was great and then it just begun crumbling piece by piece from lack of love in the household to worthless expenses.

This couldn't be happening. She was _perfect_, she looked perfect, and acted just as but her personal life wasn't. It was slowly breaking apart like an incomplete puzzle.

She remained composure when she remembered Dean still resided beside her. He couldn't know. No one could.

After all, no one needed to. It wasn't their business and her parents weren't either.

Unless Gossip Bee chose to intervene like always.

If she dared to sneak her gossip onto that stupid site of hers, she better kiss her lying little page goodbye.

Because she could do that with her connections.

Claire smiles at Dean when he starts to speak on about some unimportance, assuring him she was paying close attention to his monologue.

And when you're Claire – the ruler of Constance, you can do _anything_.

**X**

"Why, Miss Sismondi, it's been awhile."

Floria knew the voice but it doesn't mean she still can't blush over it. The silk in their tone nearly left her racing heart in circles as she blames her flush on the winter air, Hunter Harmon stood before her. Tall and statuesque, hair slick and eyes shining like jewels, standing on the Met steps before her. Ringlets strung in a ponytail as a few of Claire's minions sat above her, yogurts in hand.

"Yeah, I know." she answers and directs back to her books so she doesn't seem like a total wannabe for staring. "You should come see me more, Mr. Harmon. It's been _so _long."

He cocks a brow and chuckles, tucking a hand in the pocket of his jacket. "Unlike you, I have a lot to do. You're a mere Constance student and I'm … a man." He sounded ready to say something else but she notices how he instantly changed his answer but she didn't press him for details. She hasn't know him _that _long.

Instead she went with – "Wow!" she counters, forcing astonishment. "You're a _man_! I seriously must bow down, must I?"

He smirks and his brow stays rose. "It'd be nice to get some respect."

She laughs and flips a page in her Calculus book. "You're so full of yourself."

"Don't say that. I've seen boys at St. Jude's act much worse." he clarifies and looks up the stone steps, where the other Constance girls gossip freely. "The girls at Constance are something else."

She doesn't look up from her book. "Then go hook up with one."

His smirk fades the slightest but doesn't entirely vanish. "No, thank you. I'm not some psycho who picks up young freshmen. That doesn't sound like a good enough reason to be in the Times."

She flicks her curls out of way. "Who knows? You could be on page six for all you know."

To satisfy her, he quips in his sweetest voice. "Oh, yes! I'd be known as the _Hunter of Constance_. Great idea, Miss Sismondi!"

In the rarest of conversations, she giggles aloud and shuts her book. "You're a weird-ass, man! I don't get why you're always by St. Jude's. Do you work there or somethin'?"

His smirk falls and he shrugs, brow low with caution. "I guess you could say that …"

Before Floria can reply, she is interrupted by her answer and the catch of her breath.

"Coach Harmon!"

Harper strides over with an arm around Tinsley, their eyes shimmer as he smiles respectively. "It's good I found you! I wanted to say I can't make lacrosse practice all this weekend because I'll be out of town. Sorry."

Hunter ignores Floria's demanding glare as he shakes his head at Harper. "Don't worry, Mr. Blackwell. It's only practice just prepare in the meantime for the game next Monday."

Harper nods in response and Floria looks back to Hunter for an answer but receives nothing. He was St. Jude's lacrosse coach? How did she _not _know? She knew Harper how long now and how did she never know about Hunter? That couldn't be _possible_!

It was a small world alright.

"You know Coach Harmon, Floria?" Tinsley asks, staring between them while staying beneath Harper's arm comfortably. It wasn't surprising she knew him. Harper and Tinsley were nearly dating after all.

Hunter walks away with a warm goodbye and Floria scoffs under her breath at how calm he was being. He was a teacher after all.

She kept her calm and replies, "I guess you could say that."

Even though they were becoming much more than friends.

**X**

Steven sat with Bryn and Javier in the courtyard, who reside on either side of him, legs crossed. They look less than pleased as Steven carefully exchanges glances, darkness gleams in both their eyes and grim frowns poise their mouths as they sit still.

"Kaaaay, therapy time!" Steven announces, waving in their expressionless faces. "_Soooooo_ why are we visiting the Rocker Doctor today?"

Bryn pursues her lips and crosses her ankles as she digs her nails into her thighbone. Her lack of patience becoming exceptionally thin. "Technically, you forced us here."

He frowns and shoves her lightly in the chest. "Shut it, bee-yotch! I'm tryin' to be awesome!" Javier cracks a smile and looks away. Steven's eyes continue to blaze with theatrical fury as he stares over Javier. "So come on! I want to get my McDonald's and steal some money from Matt! I'm starving! Let's get this over with!"

"Fine." Bryn replies haughtily. "Javier's being a major dick to Kenny just because we hang out."

"And Bryn is being a selfless bitch when I try to help." Javier adds, eyes narrow.

"Doesn't mean you have to give Kenny grease as coffee."

"Maybe if he wasn't so stupid, he wouldn't have fell for it."

"Seems like you two have issues," Steven comments and nods at their insults. "especially with each other. That pretty much means you guys are in love." He ignores the offended glares he receives from them.

"Never."

"The bastard wishes."

"See?" Steven yells. "You guys are doing it again! It's like you just can't hide your love!"

Bryn rises first, brushing her skirt. "I'm out of here." Her Blackberry rattles in her leather spike bag and she goes to retrieve it, opening a message from Tinsley. "Do you guys know what the … Hamptons are?"

Within seconds, Steven's in hysterics and Javier stands, smirking. "I-I-I've been on drugs for, like, five years! And _I _even know what it is and I've never even been there! You're so sad, man!"

She rolls her eyes. "Well, _sorry_ for not being born here."

Javier steps close and brings his hand to her face. "You have a lot to learn." He suavely came in to her and presses his mouth to hers before moving from her just as slow. He turns to Steven, eyebrows arched. "Happy?"

Still laughing, Steven nods as Bryn watches Javier head off with the smooth steps of a womanizer.

A smirk comes to her face once she sees him go and she touches the curve of her mouth before leaving in the opposite direction. Feeling indifferently achieved for once.


	17. Chapter 17

"I'm in love."

Before Matt, Steven, Floria, and Bryn stood a beaten, ancient pick-up truck owned by one of Floria's relatives. The driver's door is open and the inexpensive red paint is streaked silver with exposed metal. Steven's eyes gleam gold as he approaches the vehicle. His palm smoothing over a yawning dent in the passenger door, he turns to Floria with an infectious grin and directs his hand to the truck parked in the Blackwell Mansion driveway.

"Like I said, I'm in _love_." Steven repeats, deepening his voice effectively on _love_. "This thing is just ... awesome."

Matt leans closer to Bryn, navy-and-ebony plaid sleeves shoved to his forearms. "He's only saying that because he never had a decent car." Steven is ready to counter Matt's comment but he interrupts in the same second. "The car you highjacked when we were thirteen doesn't count."

Steven rolls his eyes. "Don't be jealous."

Bryn smirks. "Keyed it, right?" She receives a matching smirk and a responsive nod. "Radical." Her smirk weakens when she turns to Floria, tightening the studded belt at her waist. "This car is shit, by the way."

Floria shrugs and yanks on her fingerless gloves. "Tell me about it," She agrees, a blue cardigan enclosed over her spray-painted tee and jeans. "What can ya do? This thing may be crap but it does have a working heater and radio."

Matt looks to the automobile. "Gas would be nice."

Unexpectedly, Steven turns to Matt, eyes narrow. "_Noooo_, really? Can we just hurry the hell up? Javier's bitch-friend has a hot tub in her house and I seriously wanna jump in! I always wanted to feel rich for a day." He quickly runs to the door and slides in the driver's seat, leans over to open the passenger window, holding a hand out for the car-keys in Floria's hand. "Lemme drive! I'll get there faster!"

The redhead stays silent. She only looks at Matt and Bryn before shaking her curls. "No way in hell." she responds and moves to the driver's side, pushing Steven into the middle awkwardly. "I'd much rather let Bryn drive before you."

Despite the cruel comment, Bryn smiles. "That's a pretty big insult because I failed that test how many times?"

"Four and counting." Matt replies and opens the passenger door, sliding in next to Steven.

Matt slams the door shut and Bryn looks to the backseat, seeing all their gig bags piled and the chain handles of their backpacks knotted together. She grimaces and looks back to the front. Sadly enough, the seats were occupied. As a last resort, she turns to Floria and Matt.

"Guys, do I have to sit there?" she asks, frowning. "It looks like hell."

Before either could reply, Steven turns to her with a smirk and pats his lap, eyebrows risen.

Matt kicks Steven's shin before turning to Bryn. "Sorry, kid. We much rather see you back there before Steven considers a lap dance."

"A man can dream."

Without another choice, Bryn reluctantly throws herself in the back and collapses against Floria's bass. The leather is torn brutally and stinks of hard-boiled eggs and McDonald's.

Floria shoves the key into the ignition and the motor grumbles to life. She steers out of the Blackwell driveway and onto the smooth concrete of Manhattan.

Bryn is silent for few seconds before smirking to herself. "I think it would've been nice to actually tell Harper I was leaving with you idiots before he catches a mini heart attack."

Matt props his ankles on the dashboard and slumps. "Eh. He'll live."

**X**

"I have to apologize for Bryn ..." Harper tells Javier, brows furrow as the Blackwell car speeds to the Hamptons on a trim stone path. "If I knew she was gonna head off early, I would've told you." A faint frown mars his forehead. "Having a twin like her can be so hard, sometimes."

Javier shrugs casually, bringing a hand into the pocket of his pricey trousers. "It's fine." he assures. "It's not like I'm against you. You're still a good person especially if you're able to deal with the shit that goes on around here." Across from him, Tinsley smiles and directs her curious gaze out the window, where the flawless stones and patched ice blurred gray.

"Sometimes, you get used to it," he says. "especially when you have a sibling like Bryn."

Before either could reply, Harper continues. "Don't get me wrong. It's not that she's bothersome. It's just ... different and I don't even know if I can handle it all. Saying all this doesn't exactly make me a good brother."

Javier takes a flask from his pocket and opens it. "You stress an awful lot." he remarks, sipping at the burning liquor casually. "And I'm sure I'm not the only one who agrees," He turns his gaze to Tinsley while still keeping a firm grip on his flask.

She nods in agreement, the emeralds in her eyes flaring brilliantly. "You worry about Bryn too much." she advises, shifting her position. As much as she hated to admit it, Harper always stressed over his dramatic family and strong-willed sister. She cared for him and would do whatever it took to prove it.

_It doesn_'_t mean getting burnt by another cigarette_, _right_?

To only reassure Javier's wandering mind and Harper's questioning eyes, she smiles to respect her friends. "Even though I usually hate to agree with you," In response, Javier smirks winningly. "It's true and I wouldn't want to hurt your feeling by being brutal with my words."

"Technically, you're not being brutal." Harper reassures, eyes wide in thought. "Just honest."

Another sip and Javier shrugs, his eyelids flickering shut momentarily. "She's trying to be sensitive to your feelings."

"Well, she doesn't need to." he says, an odd, uncharacteristic wit to his tone. "I don't need to rant for five minutes to explain I'm not a kid, right?" But he smirks, as if for once agreeing to his anxiousness.

"No, thanks." Javier drawls, drinking the remaining liquor in his flask. "I would've brought a few sleeping pills with me if then."

Tinsley giggles, shoving her own worry aside. "Nice. So you'd rather drug yourself to sleep?"

"Didn't you hear, Tinsley?" Javier quips, tossing his flask out the window. "Everyone does it, nowadays. Just ask Harper."

He holds his palms up defensively. "More like Bryn." he corrects to receive smirks from Tinsley and Javier. "I don't drug myself to sleep. I just find that so lazy."

Tinsley crosses her legs and keeps her smirk. "Exhibit A: Courtney Love."

Harper chuckles and Javier's smirk widens but seconds later, Harper gains a straight face and stares at his cell phone, which he balances on his palm silently. "Do you think I should call Bryn?" he asks, eying the black screen. "Just in case."

"No, no." Tinsley chimes, snatching the phone and hastily tossing it to Javier. "Like we said, _relax_."

His lips press together thinly and he nods. That was just the thing. Despite being told to relax and stay calm he just couldn't. In the back of his mind, one negative thought jerked with bolts of scorching anxiety that forced him to worry. He always felt Bryn was in the hands of the unknown and they almost always had to suffer before they learnt their lessons.

It was as if their family was cursed. With two unlucky twins, a drug-addled father, and a careless mother.

He rolls his eyes but heeds Tinsley's wishes. Every time he wasn't around something terrible happened and that was what he regretted most.

What would he be able to do? He couldn't depend on others forever. He had to be independent and he most certainly couldn't let anything happen to his ruined family.

Even though he knew his silence must've irked Tinsley and Javier's suspicion he kept it.

After all, they didn't know him well-enough.

And if they wanted to, they needed to offer him some time.

Because there was so much more to the Blackwells than just some scandalous rumors.

And we all know, we will never know _everything _about our favorite Upper East Side families.

Because who really does?

**X**

"_Claire_, _darling_, _don_'_t bother my dear brother_. _I doubt he needs the anger_."

"_He may not need the anger but he does need the rehab_."

"_No_, _thanks_. _I shall never put him through that sort of torture_."

"_What are you_?_ His mother_? _Grow up_,_ Cullen_."

"_I think I shall when you do the same_."

In bitter remembrance, Claire parts her lips in disgust before pursing them without remaining words. That previous argument brought distaste to her tongue and even though those haughty remarks had barely occurred two years ago she was still bothered by Elle and her obnoxious brother. They didn't necessarily scare her. She was rather annoyed with them and their flawless appearances and paparazzi-ready faces.

Kenny—Ken—Kenneth – was nonetheless irritating with his idiotically spiked hair and blank eyes. Maybe if he had some emotion she'd consider becoming somewhat of an acquaintance to him. Just to cause friction between him and Elle.

She couldn't help but be pleased when she'd been offered to play that mere prank on him with the rancid coffee and whatnot.

It was even better when she found out Javier disliked him as well.

And even though she hasn't known Javier as long as she wished, she certainly knew he always got what he wanted, especially when it came to a winning prize.

Getting rid of Kenny would equal getting Bryn for himself.

That was if he was willing to fight for the worthy cause of our favorite rocker.

And he always expects everything handed to him, which might even turn our sweet girl against him.

It's not that she cared about their relationship she wasn't threatened by them. Bryn and Javier or Elle and Kenny.

_She was more for commoners_,_ anyway_. _For every reason known_.

But like everything, Claire would deny as it were the most heinous crime. It's simply just a law beyond every New Yorker's home.

Though anyone in their right mind would never admit to a crime. Who would really want to do the time, anyway?

Some would probably be relieved if Elle or Kenny admitted to their wrongdoing but that'd never happen knowing Elle. She'd fight for the rights she didn't deserve and the rights her brother didn't have. They were their own lawyers.

Even though she enjoyed getting involved in their business and ruining lives. She had much better things to worry about and that featured more on her family life.

Minutes before she left to her family car, she heard her parents snarling at one another _again_. Hands moving in their faces with the vicious words spoke. She was terrified at their thunder-struck expressions and when in the comfort of the car, she finally freed her tears.

Her parents used to be in love. They'd once cared for one another and would do anything for each other but their feelings dried and they began glaring more and not sleeping on the same mattress. Her father would instead move to an inflatable mattress into his study. Her mother would lock her bedroom door and they wouldn't reserve their favorite table in The Modern anymore.

That wasn't her family. That isn't love. Not when two former lovers would avoid each other and practically ignore the other's presence. It hurt to see the affection in her great home, withering like the petals of a dead flower. Flowers and family need love. Which is what, she is lacking.

Still, she kept her family life a secret. She hasn't told Tinsley mostly because she would hate the concern she'd show. As much as she adored Tinsley, she abhorred the fierce concern she'd always display. It was pretty much the equivalent of not being able to do anything and Claire tended to detest that.

Almost everyone she knew had average lives with their families. Tinsley, Javier, Harper ...

Even though the Blackwell parents may be divorced, they still hadn't caused friction between their children or in their lives. They went on and Luciana was well and barely within six months, she'd found a man but that's something she wouldn't want her parents to do despite themselves.

She couldn't bear if she found out her parents were secretly organizing those terrible papers.

And she found herself envying Tinsley and Javier suddenly. Their parents were heavily in love and have been together for centuries despite the conflict they undoubtedly faced. You've never heard them readying divorce documents.

What would happen if they divorced? Would she be cut-off? Would her parents allow her access to their brownstone how Harper and Bryn's parents did with them? Would they mourn or jump right back on the market? And would they even stop to think about her wants?

We bet for now that each of those questions will be answered with a no.

Despite Claire wanting the attention, she wouldn't care if this happened to any of her so-called 'friends.'

It's not like I care about her personal matters. I just enjoy seeing her suffer. After all, who wouldn't? Especially when it's someone like her.

She sighs and looks to the tinted window before interlocking her eyes with another.

Dean lowers the herbal cigarette in his hand before smiling in concern. "Hey, you okay?"

She heard herself replying. "Yes." she assures, odd sincerity warming her voice. "I'll manage."

She was glad to see his smile widen. "Good," He takes a drag of his cigarette and his smile pauses. "Don't want anything happening to you now."

Again, she heard herself responding unintentionally. This time, she didn't halt her words. "Me neither."

_Let_'_s just pray for your family_'_s sake_._ Okay_,_ Queen C_?

**X**

Steven turns to Matt, where he takes calming drags of a cigarette, eyes shut in relaxation and lips parted. "Ya know, it'd be nice, if one of us actually had a driver's licenses. Imagine if we get caught by the cops? Damn, we'd be _effed_!"

Floria rolls her eyes and continues to speed down the dirt road. The wheels colliding with road dents every few minutes. Matt opens his eyes and laughs slightly. "Shut it, Steven. Don't jinx us."

He holds his palms defensively again. "Duuuude, I've got the perfect idea, though. Just in case, we do get stopped. Let's pretend I'm high." He turns to Matt and lowers his hand. "That's what I like to call _winning_."

Matt lowers the cigarette from his mouth and breathes smoke in his face. "Why, thank you, Charlie Sheen." He positions the cigarette in his hand and brings it back to his lips. "And I doubt you need to pretend. It's your natural way of life."

"Come on, Matt. Give him credit! He actually _thought _of the idea."

Steven glares as Matt and Floria laugh from either side of him. They were surprised to find Bryn silent, typing frantically on her Blackberry and smirking each time she receives a text. At her silence, Matt and Steven arch brows and Floria looks in the rearview mirror. "Uh-oh, Bryn. Who're you texting?"

She startles and hid her phone in her hands. "Just a friend." she stats, voice cautious. In the mirror, she sees Floria roll her eyes and return to the road. "I'm serious! Just a friend!"

Matt turns to face Bryn, smirking. "Yeah, that's how it all begins."

She looks away from him to her phone. "Trust me. Nothing is going on with me and him."

"Oh, now," Steven grins between the three. "So it's a guy? Can _he_ possibly be Kenny?"

Bryn shakes her head and her lips tighten.

Not offering her another chance, Steven extends his arm for her phone. "Lemme see, then."

A frown comes to her face and she holds her phone out of reach. "Mind your business, Steven."

He shakes his head and attempts to reach her phone again, leaning over his seat and accidentally kicking Matt in the stomach. He groans and punches Steven's shoulder. "Hand it over!" he demands, his tone forceful. "Why won't you let me see it?"

"This won't end well." Floria scoots out of Steven's reach.

She leans over the bags. "No! Stop acting like a psycho! Matt, Flor, help me!"

Matt and Floria exchange glances before turning away. "Nah."

Steven slides out of his seat and jumps back to get Bryn's phone. He leans over and she hastily fights his unsuccessful grasps. Flailing limbs and grunts of annoyance are seen and heard. Floria and Matt both smirk as they continue on with what they were doing.

Finally, Steven cuts off all fighting with a scream of pain and falls onto the cluttered floor. Bryn smirks proudly and Matt turns to check his friend. "What the hell'd you do to him?" he questions, observing Steven's crumpled form.

Bryn narrows her eyes and her smirk stays. "My heel accidentally came in contact with his ... um, boys."

Matt looks away and winces. "Ouch. Sorry, man."

Floria laughs. "He needs a Band-Aid on his balls."

"Dude!" Steven hisses in anger as Bryn stares down pleasingly. "That will _not _make it any better! It'll probably hurt _more_!"

"Haha. No chicks." Matt holds up his lit cigarette and barely manages to hide his chuckles. "To Steven's ... twins."

"Rest in peace." Floria smiles and beats the horn ahead at the road. "Poor guys never had a chance."

They all laugh with the exclusion of Steven. Their laughter rang on until they saw Claire's Hampton home coming into view and the truck begun slowing down faster. The wheels screeching, the grumbling motor pausing, then –

It all cut short.

"Oh, hell," With the car stuck halfway to Claire's rented home, Floria started twisting the key rapidly and the truck rumbles but did not turn on. "Oh, crap. Hell, hell, hell."

It was silent between the four. The only sounds heard were the sighs of Floria and jingling of keys.

Bryn blinks and positions the guitars under her. Steven finally deciding to sit up in the midst. "Um, this sucks."

"Totally." Matt agrees, shoving his cigarette out the window. "What do we do?"

"Never say that, my friend." Steven wags his finger at Matt, a hand on his abdomen. "When in peril do as Stevens do." He opens the car door and slides out. He smirks once on the dirt and looks off to Claire's estate. Without any other words, he runs down the road in the direction, screaming like a lunatic.

"Well," Floria says and hops out of the car. "I'm more for walking, anyway."

**X**

After a heavy façade of stress, Harper falls asleep, leaned against the tinted window. Tinsley looks to him somberly before locking eyes with Javier, a full flask in hand.

"Your chances of seducing him are ruined, Tins." Javier drawls, shaking his flask. "Lap dances have no effect when the applicant is asleep."

She doesn't smile when she looks back to Harper's peaceful face. His eyelids unmoving and a palm on his stomach as he shifts unconsciously. "Shut it, Javier," she mumbles, careful to not wake him. "He's tired. Do you see how much he stresses a day? He needs to relax somehow."

"Don't we all?" he counters. "If he acted as calm as his sister, he'd be normal."

Tinsley's eyes narrow and she leans to place a hand on Harper's denim-clad knee. "Stop treating him like he's abnormal." she snaps to receive an eyebrow raise from Javier. "Bryn isn't exactly normal and you still love her."

His eyes mirror hers. "I _don_'_t _love anyone. Stop getting involved in my business."

"You _loved _Vena."

"Yes. The main word in that sentence is _loved_."

She smirks, the smile coated in uncrackable ice. "You could never say you haven't loved anyone, if then. I'm not exactly interfering in your business. How many times have you brought yourself into mine?"

He rolls his eyes and scoffs. "Everyone's nearly involved in your business whether they have a choice or not. Harper nearly lost his life to Vena and Bryn had come close to never playing guitar again when she grabbed the blade. They barely knew Vena for how long?"

"I never asked them to do what they did. They chose to protect me impulsively."

"You were after all the one who called Harper in your time of need." He raises a dark brow. "You can't deny that."

Her lips come together quickly and she awkwardly straightens her spine. "I'm not. I called Harper because I needed him. I would never take advantage of him."

He shrugs and caps his flask without taking a sip. "You say that now but who knows what you'll do once you get to know him. Did you even tell him you loved him yet?"

"Yes." She hesitates. "And I meant it."

But she sees Javier's smirk reappear, the expression dull. "Sure, you did. You probably only said it to not make him feel bad," He watches Tinsley's collected mask crumble. "and I'm cruel, huh? Not as cruel as you. At least I haven't told a girl a promise I wouldn't be able to keep." His smirk stays when he continues on. "And you're supposed to be the nice one."

Tinsley didn't have anything to say to that. She loved Harper, didn't she? He had confessed his love to her and she had done the same because she loved him, _right_?

She wouldn't express her love if she didn't mean it. She cared for Harper more than anything. She'd never just betray him so cruelly.

After a while, she didn't reply to Javier and retreated her hand from Harper's leg, turning to the opposite window. Javier reopens his flask and threw his head back to drown his throat. Once their attention was elsewhere, one of Harper's eyelids flickered and a filmy blue glows expressionlessly.

He doesn't make his presence obvious but he steals quick glances at Javier and Tinsley before shifting away from Tinsley. Hiding the somber in his eyes.

_Whoa_,_ H. Your first act of stealth_._ Too bad we can't frame it_.

**X**

And while Claire and Dean conversate in a car close to her Hamptons home. She relaxes, turning to trace her gaze out the window to see a blur of frayed blonde on the porch. A slice of granite sparkling. She squints and leans to check out the window. She notices Floria, Matt, and Bryn, too.

With a grimace, she can't help but roll her eyes. She brought those disgusting Brooklynites? That doesn't make it any better. They're nothing but outsiders.

She sees the blonde, Steven, throw the granite between his hands, a grin on his face. He looks to Matthew and nods to the flawless window. Matthew shakes his head and curls his lip.

Floria and Bryn carefully step away and Floria yanks Bryn back with a nervous smile at the guys.

Bryn holds a simple thumbs-up at Steven, who gladly responds and chatters on.

Matthew looks like he's yelling when he watches Steven's swiftness, arms thrashing mechanically.

Without another option, Matthew sidesteps from Steven and with a beaming grin, he threw the shard of rock and watches it smashes through the glass, spraying the porch in glistening glass. She can hear their laughter.

The boys' chuckle and Floria wipes her sweaty forehead. Steven climbs through the broken window and is careful with his hands before he's in her house. Claire gapes as he opens the front door and allows them in.

Claire stays staring, her eyes wide and mouth open theatrically. Then she turns to Dean, who chuckles at the act just committed. She closes her mouth and ducks her head in disappointment.

"What jerks."

Dean continues laughing and she has never felt inches away from shoving her six-inch Manolo up his –

**X**

**There goes another chapter and I apologize for not having as much drama in this. This is basically the beginning of the Hamptons saga. There'll be at least two or three more to complete this. And a lot more drama will fill each chapter especially once inside the Hamptons house. **

**Enjoy!**


	18. Chapter 18

Sweat drips down Kenny's exerted face, his lips parted with breathless grunts as his red boxing gloves collide into a crammed punching bag. The chain overhead rattles as the heavy bag swings with each fist. He sidesteps around it and continues jabbing with fierce accuracy. Cold sweat soaks his forehead as he bypasses the swinging bag for a short break.

Elle watches from afar, bronze curls prim and lips tight. She steps forward and helps undo his gloves. Once both are off, he brushes her away and reaches for his dripping water bottle. Her eyes narrow. "Are you preparing to batter, Dominguez? He's quite nice, Kenneth. Keep well. I doubt father would want harassment papers thrust in his face."

He swigs water and wipes his face with a backhand. "Mind to your own business, Elle," His foreign accent is immensely thicker with exertion. "There's no need to hurt that Dominguez. It isn't part of my well-being." He takes another mouthful. "Miss Blackwell has already shown me the consideration I desire. So keep to yourself. It isn't your business as I said."

She rolls her eyes and pushes away his clammy gloves to lean in closer. "That's how it all begins. Somehow I end up being brought into it." Her eyes soften with sincerity. "Please don't get too close to her, Kenneth. I don't trust her."

By the order, his eyes blacken with hatred. "Do _not _tell me what I can and can't do." He forces on a glove and doesn't reach for the other as he buckles it. His fingers fumble with the hooks and he eventually gives on them. "You've screwed up many times but I've never brought _any_ of it up."

"And you're screwing up now!" she hisses, eyes darkening in the same emotion. "You're over here hiding everything from the girl and she barely even knows your name! You're just as sick!"

He rolls his eyes and stands, bringing his free hand across his bare chest. "Thank you. I don't receive that as often as I'd like." He adjusts the buckle on his glove awkwardly. "You're over here falling head-over heels for the Dominguez, who you just happened to meet, uh, how long ago? Two days? Talk about spreading yourself too thin."

Their spat attracts the wondering eyes of the others around them.

"I wouldn't exactly be talking," she retorts, her teeth snapping like a shark readying to attack. "you've met Miss Blackwell in the same day and you're already trailing at her feet like a common beggar!"

His teeth grit coarsely. "There's quite a difference between a filthy womanizer and a mere girl."

Her eyes slit until he's barely able to see the tree greens of them. "Not when that girl was once as sick as you."

The last remark seems to blow his top and though he manages to keep his frustration silent. His eyes dull with uncontrolled emotions and he thrusts a bandaged hand toward the exit of the gym. His breath hitches and she sees his brow lower, mouth staying firm.

"Leave. _Now_." he sneers and with that, she knew it was no longer simple and she whips around on her heel, making her way out with the calmest of steps. She doesn't look back to Kenny's face, mostly because she wouldn't be able to bear his ice. But she still couldn't help but feel for him.

When Kenny sees Elle disappear, he quickly returns to exercising. The others around him turn back to their equipment and partners. He sighs and slides off the glove, leaving both rubber garments on the waxy wood of the floors.

He holds both bandaged fists forward and begins across the floor swiftly, launching willing fists into the heavy bag. He punches with all his might. Until he feels his fingernails burn deep in his palms, his knuckles bruising, fingers coming close to breaking –

Another punch, a grunt of pain. _He was too good_.

An uppercut. _She was too good_.

Two swift jabs, the bag swings off. _They were too good_.

The bag twists back for him, he blocks it away with his hand. The weight crushes his little finger and he just manages not to scream because he knows better.

_But not good enough_.

**X**

Claire's indoor pool was empty when Steven drags Bryn through the round doorframe. The pool rimmed in sparkling marble and the chlorine-infused water glistened. With a pose through the air, Steven jumps in with a victorious yell, splashing ripples. Bryn jumps when the water comes close to catching her and she holds her cream-and-smoke guitar out of reach. She glares at Steven and occupies a seat close to a window.

"Bryn! Bryyyyn!" Steven yells, splashing and holding a hand out to her. His hair stuck to his forehead in a wet mop with some curls already forming. She meets him with narrow eyes. "Come on! You know, you want to! It's awesome in here!"

"There's a word on the tip of my tongue," she tells him, voice thick with sarcasm. "And it's ... um, _no_." She directs to her Bikini Kill T-shirt and leather pants. "And if you hadn't noticed, I'm not exactly dressed for the occasion."

His eyes widen and he grins, directing to his soaked plaid and jeans. "I'm in here in this!" He unbuttons his shirt and throws it off, leaving his chest bare and a clump of green plaid on the tiles. "And I'm _still _awesome!"

She rolls her eyes and shifts her guitar. "Breaking a window and getting your shirt wet doesn't exactly make you awesome."

He shrugs, ripples circling him. "Had to do the impossible. The door was locked and I probably would've cracked."

"Aw." She mock-pouts. "Poor little Steven couldn't wait because he _really _wanted to raid Claire's fridge."

Steven's eyes blaze with solemnity. "_Yes_. But she didn't have any normal food so that sucked. Caviar tastes like someone's gross-ass Nikes." He blinks and casually scratches his hair. "By the way, where is everyone? Floria and Matt went M.I.A. as soon as we got in."

"Harper's coming with Javier and Tinsley." Bryn advises and mirrors Steven's confusion. "And I don't exactly know where Claire and Dean are but I'm pretty sure Claire will kill you when she sees the window."

He smirks and backstrokes. "I guess I'll have to break another window to escape, then."

"I doubt you'll even make it," Bryn quips and shuffles through her pocket for a guitar pick. "Claire's such an ass. She'll probably just chase after you until she kills you with one of her needle-sharp Manolos. She wouldn't even need a knife."

His smirk stays when he halts his movements. "If she does, I'll let you have my McDonald's gift card."

"Oh yes, Steven. Because after you die, I'd want to go to McDonald's and buy myself a value meal."

"I know you will. So ship some McNuggets to heaven, okay?"

The front door suddenly swings open and shuts with a violent slam as Steven suspends himself onto the pool edge. Bryn looks off from her guitar to hear a familiar jangle of keys and clicking heels.

"_Where are you_, _you stupid slob_?"

Bryn smirks and leans in her seat. "I'd run, Steven."

For a moment, Steven looks ready to react but regains his stance easily and slides back into the water calmly, shaking his head as he sinks in. "Nah."

Within the ongoing silence, someone enters and Bryn is first to stare. Dean stands in the doorframe, brow furrowed as he catches eyes with Steven and Bryn silently. Clad in denim and plaid, he smiles at Bryn. "Cool to see you here." he replies, careful to keep his voice low as not to give away Steven's place. "This doesn't exactly seem like your thing, though."

"It isn't." she says and strings a few casual cords. "I decided to hitchhike with my idiot-friend here."

Steven kicks up water with a roll of his eyes.

Dean smiles. "I would've gone on the Jitney if it weren't for Claire. She's so against public transportation."

The brunette blinks and lowers her guitar. "What's the Jitney?" Steven smirks. "No, seriously."

He turns away from the girl and to Dean. "Ignore her. She's a foreign dumbass." He swings himself onto the ledge and ignores Bryn's glare. "Plus, who takes Jitneys anymore? Surfer vans all the way."

Dean's smile widens and he's ready to speak until –

"_Dean_,_ did you find that Brooklyn slob_?"

"I'm from Queens, actually."

He turns away and shouts out the door. "No! I'll keep looking!" He turns for the door and smiles between Steven and Bryn. "Good luck hiding."

Steven salutes to Dean, expression blank. "Enjoy that bitch."

**X**

Groggily, Harper enters Claire's Hampton home. Observing the furniture and wide doorframes keenly, eyes narrow as he props his two duffel bags on the cream wood floor. Tinsley and Javier enter shortly after. Javier turns to the broken window and smirks knowingly.

"Well, Bryn must be here." he claims, glancing out the crushed window.

Tinsley smiles. "Obviously." She turns to Harper, who stares ahead into the kitchen, eyes oddly dull. "Hey, Harper. You okay?"

"Fine." he answers, his breath sounding caught as he hefts his bags. "I'm going to put my things in the guestroom. I'll be down in a little." Without waiting for an answer, he leads himself up the stairs in search of an empty room, boots clomping until they're no longer heard.

Her eyes instantly meet Javier's, broad with worry. "You don't think he –"

But he shrugs, hefting his backpack up on one shoulder. "Who knows, Tins? After all, you were the one, who admitted to not even being sure of your feelings for him. Maybe he heard you through his snoring." He narrows his eyes darkly. Tinsley scowls. "You may want to find out before he hangs himself in the broom closet."

She doesn't bother to reply as she hurries in search of him. Javier turns from her fleeing form to hide his widening smirk.

Claire approaches from the kitchen, clad in a pretty coat, blouse and a long skirt with cutout heels. She observes his appearance before smiling approvingly. "Well, you look surprisingly good."

"I always look good," he adds, smirk in place. "I can't say anything about you though. Despite your face, you look like you just came from Britney Spears's gas station."

Her smile weakens but stays. "Yeah, I know. I've been searching for that blonde druggie, who broke the window. My poor home is basically becoming a prison infested with Brooklynites." She rolls her eyes. "Once I find him, he'll be killed. But, anyway, I was talking about you questioning Tinsley's relationship with Harper."

"Oh, so she told you?"

"Had to force it out of her." she admits and bites her thumbnail. "Which is odd because I usually never have to fight to get drama out of Tinsley through texts. You must've really upset her."

He shrugs and fixes his tie. "I wouldn't exactly call the truth upsetting."

"You must've simply made it upsetting being you."

"Yu know me so well."

It wasn't like he'd entirely meant to upset Tinsley. She made absolutely no sense on the ride over, especially since she didn't even know her feelings for Harper. What was the use of spending all that time together when she was unsure about how their relationship would progress?

Girls made no sense, sometimes. Especially ones living on the UES.

You didn't see him blurting his feelings out to Bryn or Elle randomly. He didn't even know if he loved Bryn since they only knew one another for very few months.

Yet he still let his true feelings for Vena loose easily.

And we all saw how _that _turned out.

"And we also know who you came here for." Claire chimes, voice perky and strong in a high soprano. "She's a certain brunette I'm good friends with. A tad over five feet, wears a lot of red lipstick, smokes weed just as much as you?"

Bryn has a cigarette in her mouth when she enters the main room. She takes a drag and holds the cigarette in her fingertips. "We're not exactly friends, Claire." Her breath reeks of cigarettes and apples. She returns the cigarette to her lips, looking like a flapper waiting at the corner of a Parisian block. "If you hadn't noticed I am oh-so-rebellious that I kill you Upper East Siders for breakfast." She smirks gladly at Claire's unamused expression.

Claire's face is bone white, her eyes and mouth the only color on her face as she lifts a brow. "Was that supposed to scare me?"

"Nope," She slides her lighter from her back pocket and flicks it on, brings the flame close to the sleeve of Claire's coat to see the girl jump back with a yelp, clutching her forearms and turning to glare at Bryn. Her eyes reflecting frustration like glass as she holds herself. "I'd prefer that did."

"You're insane, Bryn!" she barks, voice reaching a frighteningly high pitch. Slender fingers shivering on the tops of her arms.

Bryn doesn't necessarily have an offended reaction but her response is delayed. Her face contorts with a few different emotions and her eyebrows lower slowly. Within her time of silence, her mouth finally curves and a smirk is in place moments later. She shuts her eyes and her smirk stays as her eyelids flutter and a simple brow raises.

Wisps of smoke escape as she speaks. "That the best you got?"

With an irritated groan, Claire stomps off, avoiding the shattered window and Bryn's eyes as she hurries up the stairs. Manolos clicking along the steps.

Javier looks to Bryn when he finds that Claire has disappeared from sight. "A normal girl would've been embarrassed."

"Well, I'm not a normal girl." she breathes, lowering her cigarette with a sigh. "I thought you would've figured that out by now."

He strides forward and his arms encircle her waist, fingers fluttering over her ribs and stomach, carefully pushing her back against the wall. "I've realized. Now, would you mind showing me what _abnormal _girls do for fun?"

Her smirk widens the slightest and her painted lips resemble ones of a flawless porcelain doll. "They screw hot blonde playboys and wear leather at their favorite clubs on the UES." She reaches to loosen his tie and suddenly pauses movement. One name, one mere name soaks every fiber of her right mind, ringing and buzzing in her ears like a swarm of murderous bees.

_Kenny_.

When his mouth came for hers, she ducked under his arm and brought the cigarette back to her lips.

She saw his face, his expression contorting with frustration and confusion. She couldn't say anything, mostly because she hadn't known exactly why she had done that. She didn't like Kenny, did she? Why would he drop into her mind so suddenly? That had only happened with one other person.

She forced her lower lip between her teeth and bit back emotion. She didn't need this. She didn't need _him_.

Before awkward conversation could begin, her cell rattles in her back pocket and she slides it out, staring down the screen thoughtfully.

"I have to take this." She nearly tasted the venom on her tongue. "You'd be better off hanging with Claire for the rest of the trip."

Finally, he speaks. Her phone still shivering as he arches a brow. "Are you kidding?"

She'd never felt so regretful as she heads into the kitchen, answering the call on its last ring. "Hey, Kenny. How's it been?"

_Spotted_:_ Rocker B ditching the prized J for the always available K_._ Let_'_s just hope she doesn't throw in the towel just to reach her British beau so easily_.

**X**

"It's boring despite this being the most popular part of New York."

"I like it, actually. The maid makes wicked hot chocolate."

Matt smiles and leans forward, hauling his elbows on his thighs as he turns to face Floria. She sits beside him on the porch as they watch cars zoom down the road. The sun dangling and glittering in the sky like a diamond hanging from a thread. The sunlight reducing a few slats of ice to puddles as they look on in interest.

"Who knows? Claire probably told the maid to make it for you and laced it." He watches with a smirk as Floria looks away with a roll of her eyes, lashes fluttering. "You'll die in your sleep and be stashed away in a meat locker and never be heard from again."

Floria shifts her weight and brushes the curls out of her eyes as she looks ahead. "Nice to know you helped her secretly plan my death." She crosses her legs in front and clicks her heels together. "I'll be sure to dodge an anvil later on because I doubt I'll just spring up like a Looney Tune."

"Don't worry. Your hair will probably set it on fire before you come close to any brain trauma." She self-consciously reaches for her unkempt ringlets as she locks a glare on Matt. "Aw. Did that make little Flora sad?"

"_Floria_, asshole. I'll be sure to murder you in your sleep tonight." She blinks suddenly and a smile comes to her. "We should stop talking about death and everything. We're very dark people like Charlie Sheen and his crazy ass ex, Brooke whatever."

"Because I'd seriously beat my wife's ass on Christmas."

"I wouldn't be surprised."

"Excuse me?" He smirks and leans towards her as she looks away just managing to hide her laughs, a flush on her face. "What's that supposed to mean? Do I look like some sort of woman beater?"

"No," she adds and turns to him, eyes lustrous like gems. "you look like a _homeless _woman beater. Seriously, dude, you could dress much better. I think a lot more chicks would like you if you didn't look like some sick-looking vampire." She ponders in silence before turning to him with an unfazed smile. "No offense."

He rolls his eyes and feigns a wider smirk. "Sure, sure, because that's the perfect thing to say to one of your closest friends." He glances back ahead and pushes a fist into his pocket in search of a cigarette. "especially when on vacation with them."

Her heart falls into her stomach and she ignores it with a shrug. "Since when were we just _friends_?"

"I never really saw it either." His voice seems almost closer and she fears to meet his eyes since her previous words.

And when she finally looks for his eyes after he'd spoken, she found his mouth on hers. Erotic mouths combine in a dance of plunging tongues and whooshing hearts. In each year of knowing Steven, the Blackwells, and him, she would've never expected the guy she used to make mudpies with would kiss her.

You know what they say, _F_, expect the unexpected.

So in this case, you better get used to it.

Floria laces her fingers through Matt's tousled hair, ruffling the ends and battling his tongue with just as strong brutality. He leans over her and she bumps her arm against his. Their foreheads touch and they fight their inner ecstasy and greed, just as he reaches to seek his hand under her shirt. He stops abruptly.

A flash of familiar honeyed waves descend the stairs inside with an unusual grim expression and head for the dining room. Matt broke their kiss almost instantly. His hands leaving her as if they were never there.

He pushes himself from her and watches as she rearranges her clothes.

"This shouldn't have happened." he advises, toying with a button on his shirt. "I'm sorry."

She already seems perfectly composed, taking on the appearance of the calmest socialite who just discovered her hidden sex tape. "No, it's cool. It was just impulse, right?"

"Yeah." he agrees, reluctantly. "That's all just ... _impulse_."

Why did he always have to do this? Every time he had a near flawless relationship with a friend, it was battered and ruined like the one he once had with Tinsley. All they'd done before was share a kiss and instantly their friendship was gone. Slowly, it'd rebuilt itself but nothing was ever the same.

Now, it was incomplete as a puzzle is.

He hated puzzles.

"I'm going back in. You coming?" he calls in her direction, awkwardness continuing on. "Think I'll get a drink or somethin'."

But she knows he isn't.

"Nah, it's cool," She fakes a grin and watches him believe it with the brightest of eyes. "I'll come meet you in a little. Just enjoy yourself."

He smirks and heads in, leaving her thoughts askew.

And once the door is shut and she spots him heading for the kitchen for an actual drink. She scoots closer to the railing and buries her head in her hands. Tears pouring down her face in shiny streaks.

**X**

Harper had found his guestroom shortly after arriving in Claire's Hampton home. He has never wanted to head back for home – New York – so _quickly_.

He was grateful for Claire and letting him stay but he felt out of place. Homesick, almost. Especially after hearing what Tinsley said about him during the drive. His heart may as well have been punctured with a million needles.

To think that he just _had _to expose his feelings for her barely within a year of being friends.

She'd be better off with Matt, anyway. They had a much thicker history. They'd have a better chance.

Just a while ago, Tinsley came knocking at his door, pleading for him to come and talk to her over drinks. She knew. She finally realized he'd eavesdropped on their conversation. He was surprised he hadn't lost it when she came to see him, pleading her useless case.

She still spoke through the door and tried for apologies and such, saying anything that came to mind it seemed. He'd only listened for the first apology before plugging his ears. Call him a kid if you would. He was desperate.

And even though he knows he's acting like a jerk and ignoring one of the closest people to him, he just can't help it.

But, hey, there's no law for it.

And he's _H_ and when you have those type of looks you can do whatever the hell you want.

Someone knocks on his door and he startles, hesitating to answer. He unlocks the door and opens it to reveal Claire. Her coat discarded and her tresses in a neat ponytail.

Well, it was her house.

"Hey, Harper," she says, tone startlingly sultry and little. "I got worried. You've been up here for nearly two hours. I would've seriously thought you would've hung yourself from the shower rod." She forces a laugh and allows herself in. "Well, how're you feeling?"

_Waaaay to start conversation_, _Queen C_.

"A little better, actually." he replies and picks his thumbnail. "I just took some extra time to rest."

She nods and hangs back for a moment. She has to refrain from mentioning Tinsley. "Oh, that's good. I hope you got enough rest." She ponders in hesitance. "I think you should come down for dinner. With everyone here there's gonna be a huge feast."

He looks away and breaks his fingernail accidentally. "Sure, I'll be down in a little. Thanks."

Again, she nods and her cold features soften. "I'll always be here for you, Harper." Her voice is serious and not dripping in iciness. "Just as long as you stay trusting me."

He stares at her a second wordlessly before retreating back to his bed cluttered with clothing and an iPod tangled in headphones.

She leaves and shuts the door behind her, making sure to keep it unlocked.

He would come along eventually, right?

**X**

The dining room was impeccable. It was nothing like the shabby one connected to a kitchen in the Blackwell Mansion. The glass table was clothed in lace, a dripping chandelier decked in Swarovski crystals dangled overhead, and folded napkins were set on the table beside each chair.

The kitchen was currently occupied by Steven and Javier. The food was fresh and warm, boiling and sizzling in bowls of glass. Steaming varieties of pasta, smoking sausages and meatloaves, saccharine shrimp cocktails, and dishes of cool salads spread across the marble counters. The chefs left their shifts early, a boost in their paychecks.

Steven grabs a tiny loaf of sour bread and bites into it – not even bothering for butter. "Damn, this is _good_!" He turns to Javier, who is finding himself a drink. "Seriously, you don't get this food where I'm from!"

"Brooklyn, right?" Javier asks, sipping from a goblet of wine. He balances his plate heaped with rigatoni and hunks of pork. "At least, that's what Claire's been saying."

"No!" His face darkens and he jerks his plate, the strawberry gelato dangerously wiggling on his dish. "I'm from _Queens_." He frowns at Javier's disbelief. "Looks can deceive."

Javier turns away to gather some utensils. "Apparently, and speaking of," He looks back to Steven. "have you seen Bryn? I saw her disappear on her phone a while ago and haven't seen her since."

He shrugs and takes another bite of bread. "Who knows? Bryn's always disappearing. She's probably on the phone with Kenny. They've been going nonstop since our ride." He cocks a brow and the corner of his mouth twitches in a smile. "Why not just ask her out if you're so into her? You're taking forever, dude."

"Because _I _don't ask people out."

"Neither does Bryn. You'll miss your chance if you wait forever."

Bryn enters the kitchen at that moment. Her Blackberry bulging from her pocket and an empty plate in her grip. "Hey, guys," she breathes, swiping dollops of ravioli onto her plate and looking between them. "you guys been in here long. What's been up in here?"

"Harper," Steven lies. "he's been all upset over something Tinsley said."

"He stresses a lot over you." Javier offers and collects another wineglass. "I almost considered giving him some of my pills."

Bryn chooses a shrimp cocktail, jabbing a finger in the glass and licking the sweetness off her fingertip. "Do it next time. He'll need it." She walks over to Javier and snatches his plate, her hand brushes his palm and lingers too long after her steal. "If I scream in fifteen, send a search party. Alright?" And she bolts for the stairs and disappears.

"And, man?"

Javier crosses his arms. "What?"

A grin finds way to Steven's face. "She definitely likes you, too."

**X**

Harper finds a plate packed with nourishment in his face. His mattress shifts and Bryn is instantly beside him, her own plate and a full glass in hand. She doesn't look questioning and he pauses the Airborne Toxic Event on his iPod. Bryn introduced him to most bands, really. Most American, which were surprisingly good. Fall Out Boy, Green Day, No Doubt.

He looks to her and his eyes widen with confusion. She smirks and watches him stir the salad awkwardly. "Thanks, Bryn," he replies sincerely, a faint smile debuting. "I'm sorry for not coming down. I was feeling pretty down."

She shrugs and drains her glass. "What're twins for?" She laughs when she sees him hide his chuckles with a mouthful of lettuce. "Yeah, shut up. You got me talking like you now."

He swallows some salad and touches his temple. "Remember? Twin thing. We could hear each other."

"I am _so _glad you can't hear what I'm thinking." Harper nudges her shoulder and scoots away, stabbing a matter of tomato slices. "My thoughts are the complete opposite of your innocent beliefs. You'd be surprised at what goes on."

"I'd rather you not enlighten me." he adds, shoveling tomatoes into his mouth. "Considering what _you _think about."

"My mind only. What comes to it stays."

"Like it'd want to leave, anyway."

She smacks his ribs playfully and he chuckles, nearly throwing her to the floor with a weak fist as tomato sauce spills off her plate and onto the carpet. She yells and bursts into laughter, grabbing a shrimp from her glass and tossing it. It falls on his leg and he throws it back, more accurately. This time, it sticks to her thigh. Their laughter is stronger than ever.

After all, who needs love when you have family?

**X**

**I hope you all liked the chapter. And here's the song I would dedicate for this chapter would be Gwen Stefani's 'Luxurious.' It has meaning in some way in my definition – luxury, champagne kisses, etc. **

**Seems fitting enough, right? Enjoy the chapter!**


	19. Chapter 19

Javier didn't like Bryn Blackwell. He completely _hated _her.

Living with her that is.

His room is only across from hers and deciding to respect Claire's wishes for once he hasn't been bringing girls upstairs and Bryn's been avoiding him every minute since their almost-hookup. And he's not hating her for that but how her living habits are. Which make him glad they're not together sharing a suite because he can't _stand _her lifestyle.

Every morning she rushes to the bathroom, uses up all the hot water, and sings something vulgar as a brute wake-up call. Around the afternoon, she locks herself in her room and blasts either T-Rex or Stone Temple Pilots depending on the hour. Steven says she writes lyrics around that time and he'd believe it because when he gets back to his room each evening there's a hill of crumpled paper outside her door.

And later when everyone's at the table for dinner, she's not there. No one's surprised but him.

He's smoking on the deck when he sees her sitting by the kitchen counter, eating cold pizza and ticking a pen along the marble top.

Then around midnight he's finally ready to confront her for avoiding him and basically everyone else and only talking to Kenny through her stay but when he gets to her room, finding the door unlocked he sees her sleeping. The television rerunning _Mad Men _and her fingers curled around the pillow in a vise grip. And through her rock exterior and ruthless heart, he actually found her normal and chose _not _to rip the pillow from under her head.

He reconsidered his motives when she sang Slipknot in the shower the next morning.

It was almost like she was trying to get rid of him.

Which wouldn't surprise him because her attempt at losing Claire came close to succeeding until Dean convinced her to stay before she managed to pack and flee with her dignity.

She could do anything possible to try to force him out – but he wouldn't be going anywhere.

You wonder why?

Well, let's just say, he's always five steps ahead.

**X**

Bryn puts an ear to the inside of her door and listens out to check if Javier was still out there. She hears his voice through the oak and shakes her head, bolting over to her stereo and turning the knob and raising the volume of the fiercest Iggy Pop song she knows. The room reverberating in his hollowly voice. She's been blasting her music for _hours _and he just doesn't seem to leave. He definitely has to have brain damage to not be bothered by any of this. Or earplugs.

She basically camped out in the room already and would've considered it her own, if it wasn't for the view and lame curtains. Her lyrics and paper were already scattered across the floor and bed, posters of the British band, Bush, and her Gibson were among the mess. But it was already coming close to being home and she'd love it more if Javier wasn't across.

Absolutely _nothing _would get rid of him. Not wasting the water, not her music or singing, not her eating habits, and not even when she spilled black coffee on his shirt.

What could she do?

Within her thought train, her phones chirps the bars of 'Here Comes The Sun.' She finds Kenny's name on the screen since he's basically been her rebound through the trip and snatches her phone before hopping on her bed and answering the call.

"I'm _miserable _without you," she jokes and hears his chuckle. Her face warms. "Honestly! I've been trying to get rid of Javier and he just won't leave. He's seriously like the Axl Rose of my life. He reappears and disappears like every second ... with – with –"

"An _Appetite for Destruction_?" he counters and she hears a chair scrape across hardwood. "Relax. It's only for a while longer. Meanwhile, I'm stuck in Shithattan with a black guitar I have no idea how to play. Oh, the irony! How I wish I can climb your balcony and serenade you in the lamest of Disney songs!"

"I don't have a balcony."

"Don't kill my fantasy, please."

"_Use Your Illusion_, babe."

"One and two, you know it."

She bursts out laughing and is unable to stop especially when he joins in. His starts off more surprised as she clutches at her stomach and falls back against the tangled sheets. Tears arrive in her eyes at the entirety. His chuckles die to little exhales as she continues on for a few moments, panting and wiping tears from her face, smearing her gunmetal eyeshadow.

"That was _so _not funny." she breathes and restrains another fit of laughter.

"Apparently, it was, if you died halfway through." His voice statics and she shifts the phone to her other ear. She never wanted to head back to New York so fast to spend time with a guy in so long. Someone who could actually understand her and share her passion for all things rock and who even made references to famous albums without insulting her rebellious style.

She was getting too attached.

_Let the strings break and let her heart not follow_ was what her mind told her telltale heart.

But she kept her mouth shut and thoughts private and let him strike up a conversation about L.A. Guns and Nitro. By far, the two bands she hated most. Although she did, she enjoyed hearing him because he allowed her the same right without trouble.

Because he'd actually let her speak her honest mind and despite Javier saving her those times with Vena and her close suicide she couldn't help but notice his hesitance. Reluctance. He drew her close yet threw her far every time she attempted to approach even with the littlest of gesture. She didn't have the time – the mind of patience.

He'd move on and so would she.

"Um, Kenny?" she calls to hear the awkwardness of her voice ring like a siren.

"Yes?"

"When I – I get back." she begins and gnaws deep on her bottom lip, secretly hoping for it to bust and draw blood so she could have a reason to hang up. "Do you think we can just seriously talk when I get back? As in, _seriously_?"

There's complete silence on his end. So much, she thinks she's overstepped her boundaries and lost him. The quiet swims on as she rights herself and lets a hand linger on the doorknob, feeling her eyes dampen. The sting pierces like an infected bug bite.

She twists the knob and opens the door. "Ken –"

"Sure."

"_What_?"

"Yeah. Fine. Sure." And he's completely sure, readied. So much he's joking about the importance. "When you get back we'll have the talk you oh-so-long and I think we'll need it because I need to get something into your head as well."

She gapes and her knees come close to buckling as she can't even hide her current smile. Her mouth quirking along. "Cool." She laughs and throws her head back, dark shag tickling the nape of her neck as she hears his grunt. "Talk to you about more albums later?"

"Let's never forget the all-too-insane _Spaghetti Incident_."

She giggles and ends the call, then finally hits the base of reality.

Javier leans against his door. His expression seemingly betrayed, mouth tight and hands tucked in his pockets. He nears emotionless, impassive. Her heart twinges but not enough to make her apologize. He did still owe her for the pep talk she offered when he finally gave on Vena.

They watch one another for the fewest moments before the hard exterior reenters her.

Let him hurt, it says. Not just says – _demands_. Like she's the soldier in the war between her heart and mind, listening and fighting as it commands her to.

She follows instruction without hesitation. Narrows her eyes, lets her smile fall, and heads off down the hall with an electrifying jolt in her chest, as if it was what tamed and ruled over her with the rights of a master and the weapons to do so.

She walks as if a gun was at her temple, the cold barrel with bullets that could easily crumble her skull and end her life. As such was done, the bullet wounds in her thawed and the once-permanent bruises along her melted and vanished into a steady head. A clean mind.

And she didn't bother to check if he was still there. Watching.

Because she was a new Bryn. One that would never pool in regret again.

Maybe just drown.

**X**

Floria and Tinsley sit at the dining table. It wasn't dinner nor were they eating but due to the space and calm air, it seemed like the best place to vent. The room was quiet enough that Floria actually suspected recorders to somehow be hidden beneath the table or under the couch cushions as if they were being filmed in secret.

"Do … do you think Harper will be okay?" Tinsley asks out of the blue. "I mean, he hasn't been talking to me since I was unsure of my feelings and I'm worried." She fixes her gaze on the diamond-patterned carpet. "Especially since he doesn't come down and I only see him leave with the guys and that's when I can't talk to him."

Luckily, she'd be able to help Tinsley in the weakest way. She had dated Harper for about a week or two and knew of his antics. He was too emotional for her and she was surprised they had even lasted as long as they did. She's never been so grateful to Bryn for breaking them up.

Now, Harper and Tinsley had their sights set on each other. It was a chain reaction.

They'd both blow in the end.

But she wasn't Bryn and chose to show a tad support. "Harper's pretty emotional," she advises, mouth twitching as she feigns a smile. "you get used to him, though. Sometimes, you just need to approach him and force a conversation. Get through his head and tell him what you want."

Tinsley smiles but her mouth also twitches with what – fear? Restraint? Hesitation? "Okay," she gives in and breathes as if that's what's keeping her from fainting. "thanks for the advice, Floria. It's healthy and liable enough against Harper at least."

She never thought or really wanted to hear a thanks from Tinsley after she saw Matt run after their kiss. She couldn't help but feel upset over Tinsley for being the glacier wall. Which was uncrackable and oblivious to what it does but it's not like she meant to do it so she was becoming neutral around her. At least, she didn't bruise and abuse Harper's feeling like Claire once did.

Despite Harper annoying the living hate out of her most of the time, she still thinks he deserved some consideration.

Tinsley would be perfect to do so.

"Wish you luck," is all Floria says and with a small smile, she shoos Tinsley off. "Now, go, bust down the door and get your, um, _man _back." But she's still smiling and her mouth loses the awkwardness. "I think you'll need all the luck you can get."

Tinsley grins and laughs as she skips out of her seat and runs up the stairs. She wouldn't be surprised if she actually went to break down the door considering the state of the window and the people who caused it.

And the crack of the door makes her actually believe she did so but then she sees Matt – she didn't consider him Stradlin anymore. No one called him that. He arrives with a cigarette in his mouth and dressed in green plaid. No one did respect Claire's rules of smoking inside and who would really want to?

He blinks at her and reaches into his pocket and offers her a cigarette, probably as a peace offering.

She does what's right and shakes her curls before scraping back her chair and heading out the front to the store. She couldn't look at him the same without being reminded of his touch, his musky scent, and his mouth on hers.

She had to do what was right. No matter how much she hated to.

**X**

"Steven, can we talk?"

"_Sure_. Want me to braid your hair, too?"

Javier's eyes narrow as he approaches Steven in the basement, which is cluttered to no end with storage boxes and dust. He, however, seems content upon a lengthy box with a snare drum in his lap, empty soda bottles at his feet, and drumsticks in hand as he practices tiny strokes. Though he really doesn't have much interest in music, he can't help but admit Steven's good despite having ingested everything in the span of months.

Steven (Adler?) doesn't seem the slightest mad as he snaps his drumsticks together. "What about, man? Make it quick. I have an album to learn."

He's selfish, completely. He shifts his gaze from the drum to Steven's wondering face. "I don't usually care but Bryn's been avoiding me. I think she's trying to get rid of me by making it all too obvious."

"Yeah, she wasted the water," he adds and spins a stick. "should've punched her in the throat."

"That wasn't what got me mad." he admits to receive a look of disbelief. "It's just ... she's – ugh, I don't know. Annoying, that's it. She's annoying."

"Man," Steven shakes his head. "you're in. You are whipped _hard_."

"That sounds so wrong."

"Well, it's supposed to."

He returns to his drumsticks and attempts the beat of a familiar Adele song. Javier's mouth curls and he raises an eyebrow.

"Steven?"

"Go to Bryn."

"Wait, what?"

"Go. To. Bryn." He breaks the words and spins a stick again, pointing it to the door and stairs. "I'm allowing you. It's not that I could stop you, anyway. Just tell her what you told me. Ask her why she's acting like a bitch. It'll set her off. Just don't make a total ass of yourself."

"And how will I do that?"

"Make an ass of yourself?"

His eyes narrow. Deep, solemn greens. "Talk to her. She's been M.I.A."

Steven blinks, trying for good advice seeing as he was never a pro at following it himself. But seeing as his old advice came from fortune cookies, it was an improvement. "I'm sure you'll figure all out."

Well, he got that from a fortune but it still applies.

**X**

"It seems like no one ever swam in that pool other than Steven." Dean smiles and turns to Claire as she's reclined on a beach chair, wearing wayfarers and a sheer coverup over her bikini. She wasn't going to swim anytime soon because the pool still had to be quarantined since that _thing _jumped in and poisoned the water with Brooklyn germs.

She lowers her frames and scowls. "Remind me to have it detoxed later."

Dean laughs, it's innocent. Harmless like a hummingbird. "He's not so bad just because he's not from Manhattan."

"No, he's just terrible." She lifts the shades back over her eyes and they tint when catching the daylight coming from a close window. "Especially from the lowest scum of New York – _no_, the world."

"If you mean Brooklyn I'm from there, too." His tone isn't mad but stern and disapproving like a father figure. She looks back and feels a tad shamed when she sees the change in his face. She wouldn't exactly mean to be cruel to him. Brooklyn or not. "Is it such a bad thing to be from there?"

_Yes_. "No!" She's even surprised at how appalled she sounds. "Not you because there's such a difference between you and him in more ways than one."

"Really?"

"Really!"

Dean chuckles and pushes her arm – she hates it because it's a Harper-gesture and he does that to the lacrosse guys and the girls like Bryn's redhead friend. It's basic guy-code for staying friends. "Relax, I'm kidding. You're always so tense."

She tries to seem strong and willful but a flush destroys her. "No. Not always."

"Then, you'll have to show me that side of her." he advises and raises an eyebrow, dipping his feet in the water and sighing. He needed some distraction and he holds his breath, wanting suddenly to dive in and disappear. "The entertaining."

"Oh," She sounds different. Becoming Scarlett from Gone with the Wind or The Girl in The Seven Year Itch. The breathless, Jean Harlow-esque voice complimented her. "well, I'll show you entertaining."

He expects what comes as he hears her approach and turns for her eyes. He found her mouth instead as it reaches his. Honey lips and acidy tongue. He barely knows the physics of kissing since the only kiss he ever had was from a drunk girl in a game of Spin the Bottle and it's not something you study. He does what he sees in movies with his sister and leans in, sliding his hands in her hair and closing his eyes.

Claire smirks and lets a hand linger on his throat. Not stopping for thoughts and thinking on impulse.

How's that for entertaining?

**X**

The playlist of Britney Spears is on and Bryn only stays for the sake of her emotional brother because in different standards, she'd smash the television once Britney appeared in a top hat and would suffocate Harper with the damn thing if he ever made her go through this again.

"Yawn." She stretches her arms in exaggeration and steals the remote, jumping when he attempts to retrieve it. She changes the channel and finds a No Doubt music marathon. "Quit the glare. You're lucky I'm even here."

"Whatever." He watches Gwen Stefani toss her hairdryer in her boyfriend's bathtub, electrocuting him. "What do I do, Bryn?" She's alarmed at the question and drops the remote, turning to him with wide eyes and a smudged burgundy pout. "I just want everything to be normal again."

"First of all," She stomps her boots and they grow heavy with awkward air as she looks to Harper. "hate to be the bitch of bad news but it'll never happen. Life sucks but you learn to deal."

Harper smiles poisonously. "Good words of wisdom."

She rolls her eyes. "Aren't they?" She looks out the window and watches the amber sun sink and the sky blacken just when she wants to leave. Everyone else was supposed to leave tomorrow in Claire's car on a school day, early in the morning. She was feeling indifferent, caged through her stay. She looks back over Harper and sees him touch his knee, a deep purple bruising inks the skin. It looked like he'd bludgeoned himself with a metal bat. "Hey, bro. What's that?"

He blinks and follows her gaze, straightening his leg out and massaging around the bruise. "I have no idea." Bryn steps in and stares, an eyebrow arched. "It appeared out of nowhere after I fell on the field in lacrosse. Probably just some bruise."

"It doesn't look like 'some bruise.'" He rolls his eyes. "I'm serious. Get that checked out. Go to Dr. Wilson, get ice or something just –" Brutal knuckles rap on the door and she looks to. "we'll talk about this later." She goes to answer the door and opens it a peek, talking quietly and sharing a laugh. "I'll be leaving, Brother Blackwell."

She sneaks out and he's ready to scream back for her but already finds her gone and before he has chance to go after her, he finds a long blonde mane, stern pine eyes, a twisted pink pout –

"Tinsley." His mood is immediately sour. "Hi."

**X**

_meet me on the equinox _–_ or in our case the jitney stop by that horrid bar 2nite_

The sky is full dark to the point it's almost overshadowing the moon. She checks the time on her Blackberry and finds _6 AM_. She had time. Since checking the routes and stops for the Jitney, she'd take the last to leave him anxious. As if, her leather pants didn't do that enough.

She shoves in clothes and lyrical papers and rock posters. She still had an unmade bed, folds of extra clothes, and a guitar she obviously couldn't stuff in a suitcase. She deposits two lighters and shuts the suitcase after it nearly overflows. It clicks with locks and she lugs it onto the bed, begins to search the closet for her jacket.

She hums Radiohead's 'Lotus Flower' and stomps her boots as she prepares her belongings. Hard knuckles bang on her door and she scowls. Why does someone finally choose to bother her when she's busy? She ignores the knock and it returns loudly, so much so she could hear an echo.

"I'm busy!" she screams and takes her CD out of the stereo. The silence is stilling and she turns back to her bag, beginning to search for her gig bag. The knob twists and her door slams. She curses and turns in annoyance. "I said I'm –" _oh god_.

Javier stands in her room, brows furrow. "Well, hello to you, too." He approaches and eyes her suitcase, the clothing and paper on the floorboards, and the jacket in her knuckles. "Are you leaving for Kenneth? You're pleasing no one but yourself if you hadn't realized."

She scoffs and tastes a dry throat. She really needed to pack emergency cigarettes. Her survival kit for smoking while away that held Camels, Zippos, and other necessities.

But she doesn't deny the accusation. She knows best. Then, drags her suitcase onto the baseboards. "I would've definitely rethought myself if I knew you mattered." She throws a band-tee over her shoulder into another bag with feign enthusiasm. "Oh, curse me to hell!"

"You're right. Some straight-thinking past all those drugs and losers would do you good."

The drug insult hit further from her heart. "You calling my friends losers?"

"Not at all. Because I happen to know them and it was more directed to Kenneth seeing as he's the only one I know."

"Since you used the plural, I'm guessing you're also included." Her eyes narrow and the talk is no longer safe in profanity nor nature. "Now, I'd suggest not calling Kenny a loser again unless you want your neck wrung faster than Courtney Love's career."

He strides and she sees the disbelief of her threat in him. "I'd love to see you try."

"Don't think I won't pull it off."

"Like, you'd be able to."

Her guitar hits the mattress and squeaks. She turns her back and busies herself with her Gibson. An asshole, a complete and total dick is what he is. She can't believe she was ever in love with him. _Ugh_, their relationship would easily be shot to hell if they ever –

She hears him chuckle and turns back. He's smirking and it's not good. It's sick like snake venom. "You were in love with me?" Her throat is caught. She was speaking her thoughts. "Please. I think you're right. We can't be together. It'd be hell. If you think I hate Vena, you have _no _idea what I feel for you."

No words, no vulgar, dead silence. He waits for the worst because she deserves what he had to go through with Vena. When he had attempted to admit his love, she had shut him down, finger to lip with not even a thought of apology, only staying in their relationship for mesmerizing sex not love. That's what made it last. That's what makes them all work.

_Breath_, _breath_, _shuffle_, _clomp_. His face enflames strongly. She hit him and he's not hurt but is in shock and doesn't have a suitable reflex but the mere hand-to-face.

More pause. She takes her suitcase and jacket, leaves her guitar, and slams out the door.

He sighs and tries to sooth the burn. He had done exactly what Steven told him not to.

**X**

"Talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about."

Tinsley is unamused at Harper's poker face and monotone responses. She's furious but not to the point of boiling as Harper stares her in the face, no mouth quirk or eyebrow twitch. His eyes are black like hot coals and are so unusual without their light. They're only staring her down, even when she wills to move from the doorpost to him.

"Harper, come on. I know you heard me in the car." He looks close to words before going blank and shifting, scratching his neck. "Javier caught me off-guard. I do still love you. I swear on it. The truth is –" She switches between feet and submerges through emotional smog. "no one ever really asked me about it. Involving any guy I had feelings for. It's complicated but true." Blinks and an eyebrow slant. "I hope you understand."

Nail biting, face contorting, frantic gaze. That's all she really gets as response until he gnaws his thumbnail and meets her eyes. "Is that all?"

_Of course_,_ he_'_d do this_. She sighs and retreats back for the door. "I guess so." She opens the door and –

"Good. Because I forgive you."

"What?" The knob is suddenly icy in her hand and her fingers clam and curl on reflex. "_What_?"

He can't help but admire her choice of wording. "I forgive you. I do." She shuts the door and listens further, taking little steps as if in a landmine heaped with dynamite. "I was never really mad in the first place. More shock, really." He smiles, it's the tiniest bit timid. "I don't get mad to a serious point. Unless, it's something Bryn does and I won't get into any details. But I am fortunate, whether that's the correct wording."

"Why?" She can't help but keep cautious as she closes her sweating palms. They're shaking mad.

"Because of it all. Everything you wouldn't dare believe." he vows and she steps right before him. He stands and even with the slightest trouble from his knee. He is upright and caressing her face with warm fingers like the touch of a child. He leans and brings his mouth to hers, gentle and delectable like melting chocolate.

"Wait –" She cuts off and stares with narrow eyes, almost nothing compared to the intimidating blues Bryn had. "Does this mean we're dating now?" And with rocketed emotion, she's shot out of reality.

His chuckle brings her back and he doesn't reach for her to prove a point. "Yeah, so go update your Facebook." Then, they're kissing on the borderline of reality. No matter how cliché.

And peeking through the door is a watching Claire – curled lip and dark furrow brows, who has become the complete cliché.

**X**

Just after witnessing the Tinsley/Harper makeup/make-out, she shuts the door and her nose wrinkles at a stench. The halls stink of cigarettes and she's just about to go chide Bryn until she hears a rasp and it's most certainly not one she knows.

"Expect that a lot." She turns and sees a rugged shag, define cheekbones and arched eyebrows, cigarette in mouth and the ending cherry radiating in the low lights like a red bulb hanging off a Christmas tree. "The kissing? The almost-but-never-sex? Trust me. I know things especially when involving them."

Mason? Marco? Maxwell? – "Matthew." she manages and he gives nothing but a responsive chin tilt. "How do you … what do you know?"

"Enough and also that you just did Dean a few rooms down." He drags and she seethes, watching smoke form and disperse like steam. "They're too fairytale for me. You know? Royal, godawful, Will-and-Kate-perfect. I hate it. I hate perfection."

How could he just open up to her? They never even spoke or looked at each other or even shared casual smiles through school halls. Yet he was here, dropping the bottle and spilling all opinions and thoughts to her like they were the closest of friends. It was unimaginable but she finds herself tightening her robe sash and sauntering in as he twirls his cigarette.

"I know. As much as I try to be perfect I can never. I'm always second-rate to Tinsley." She claws fingers through her hair and causes tangles she couldn't care to comb and polish. "Yet she could do the most heinous and Harper will still take a bullet for her. It makes me want to vomit."

"Right?" He returns the cigarette to his mouth and inhales. "I'd take a bullet, like, in the arm or something. They're annoying together. It's like a Full House episode – you know, happy-drama-happy. Fucking retarded."

"Because not everyone can do as they can!"

"If you only knew how much it pissed me off."

She fans her palm around the smoke. "No, I understand! I see them as some couple who'll grow old together and have thousands of kids! It's so cliché! _Stupid! _The day they breakup and divorce like my parents will be the time of my life!" She hadn't realized she was yelling until she's lacking breath and he's stubbing the cigarette. "My parents are divorcing, at least I presume. It's terrible and I'm just a dead-weight to them, hurting with morbid loss."

Matthew knots his fists and straightens up. "Bryn and Harper's divorced when they were barely teens. Steven's disowned him –" He sighs and elaborates by mussing his hair badly to mime him. "and mine divorced after my eighth birthday. Now, they only team up when I'm in trouble. If your parents do divorce, I'm sure you'll be fine because if I can live on so can you. Believe it or not, it's not as bad as you think." He searches his pockets and finds a handful of tissues, shoves them in her palm. "Take them. You look like the devil woman."

She touches her face and finds her cheeks wet and eyes the tissue wads before blotting her face, forcing a laugh when she sees the mascara smears and his smirk. "You know, this doesn't exactly make us friends."

"Good." he voices, the rasp seemingly light. "Because I prefer strangers." His smirk fades and he heads for the stairs. Her focus is on his leather-clad back entirely and she chokes on her words.

It would never happen again. She was sure of it. "Thank you."

He doesn't allow her much. Only the backhanded wave all guys give but for once she can accept it to some extent.

Because it means friends.

**X**

When Floria returns to her room later in the evening, Bryn's guitar is at her door with a note.

_Im gone I couldn't take it_. _bring this back for me pls_

- _BB_

It wasn't Bryn's writing.

She takes the guitar by the neck and groans. It was heavy and she was always surprised how Bryn carried it everywhere when she's half her size. Her bass wasn't as worse and she delivers it into her room and stands it on a chair's legs, having respect despite Bryn's missing presence.

Why'd she have to go? Did one of the guys do something? Her temper always goes short when with so many guys. She should've been there for her instead of running from Matt after that blowing tongue kiss, her fingers in his hair and on his jaw, his seeking down her shirt and hers – _ugh_. It was all awkward.

Maybe Javier did something. She did mention something of the sort earlier but dismissed the thought like the forgotten of the world. If she prodded her more, she would've probably gave, prodding and cheap champagne always make magic.

Her sigh breaks the tense and she stares at the floorboard grain until her eyes tire. She should've been a better friend. Good friend skills could've saved a lot of conflicts. They could've redone so much wrong.

Three straight knocks on her doorpost. "Flor?"

She rolls her eyes and her shoulders slouch in exaggeration. "Yes?" She looks and meets Steven's eyes. He holds drumsticks and has a wool blanket on his shoulders like he just woke from a nap. "Oh, sorry, Steven. I'm tense bad, on-the-wrong-side-of-Tommy-Lee's-bed tense."

"Oh." His eyes widen and he clamps his forehead. "That's bad." He strays in the doorframe. "we're all downstairs with a bonfire except Bryn. She ditched. Why don't you come? Me and Matt are talking about the misadventures of Kanye Mess."

"Maybe later. I might rest." It's not that she was still upset over the kiss but she did need some anxiety-free sleep. "Just toast me some marshmallows."

"Will do." He leaves and she's glad he doesn't linger. He has some brains. She listens until he clonks down the stairs, then slams and locks her door. Throws herself back on the bed and dials Bryn to distract herself. Not even a ring before she's sent to voicemail. She rolls her eyes and groans into her pillows.

So much for an 'anxiety-free' rest.

**X**

On the private beach outside Claire's is a bonfire, crackling with blackened lumber and grey plumes. The midnight waves crash from afar and withdraw in. The wind isn't exactly strong but they all have blankets with the exclusion of Javier, who dons a coat and blazer. Steven holds a bag of marshmallows and has one on a stick as he toasts it over the fire. Ever the traditionalist.

Claire draws back and observes. "That's going to taste terrible."

Tinsley and Harper hold hands, fingers not once twitching or bothered with the heat from one another. "It's actually pretty good," he adds and has a blanket over his legs. "you'd be surprised."

Steven snorts and the marshmallow browns. "Were you a Boy Scout or something?"

"God, no." Harper rolls his eyes and Tinsley laughs, caressing his arm as Claire seats by Dean on another blanket. "I made it in my own kitchen and almost started a fire in the microwave. It made one hell of a mess."

Dean smiles and leans in with interest. "How old were you? Seriously. Nine? Ten?"

"Seventeen. It was last week." He shares laughs with Claire, Dean, and Tinsley. "Can you blame me? It looked fun."

Javier watches with a smirk and feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns and sees Matt gesturing at Steven, who is oblivious when toasting his marshmallow. "Look at him. That marshmallow is going to fall in the fire in about five sec – " The fluff sinks into the fire and drowns in the flames. Steven swears and Matt chuckles. "told you."

"Yeah, smart ass?" Steven demands and throws Matt the marshmallows and his stick. "Let's see how you do it!"

"Alright." Matt spears two on the stick and raises it over the fire. "When I succeed, you owe me lunch money."

"Deal!" Javier rolls his eyes and steals a marshmallow, shoving it in his mouth.

He looks around and observes the waves crashing on the sand, the white glowing half-moon, the sprinkle of stars. He investigates everything but his thoughts.

Bryn needed to be the farthest from his mind.

Too bad she wasn't.

**X**

_i've been texting you all day say something! your freaking me out_

_did those bastards do something? i swear come on …..._

_i'll wait for the last jitney just answer your fuckin phone!_

"No answer?"

Kenny groans and shoots back his gin. "No answer." Frankie sits with him at the bar close to the Jitney stop in Brooklyn Heights. It is horrid with paper napkins and bowls of cigarette buds but he chooses to wait only for Bryn's whereabouts. Luckily, he doesn't have to force a fake American voice around her and is able to talk normally. Something he would've never hoped to become accustomed to. "I'm not at all surprised that the bastard did something to her. She said he was bothering her, if only I listened."

"It's not your fault, man. Keep calm." She swigs scotch because the bartenders don't seem to care she's underage. Probably the only perk of this bar. "She's probably trying to keep you anxious with the last ride. I know I would." She laughs but he doesn't join. He glares strongly and demands a refill. "_Dude_."

"I'm upset, Frank. I should've been there." He downs his gin in one gulp as she sighs and shakes her head, careful to keep him sober. "Who knows where she is? She may even be lost and no one is there for her. It's morbid, Frankie! _Horrid!_"

He catches attention and she shushes him, shooing off prodding eyes. "As much as the Brit screaming and rhyming in the middle of a shitty bar fascinates me, calm yourself. Bryn probably just lost phone connection on the Jit-thing. Seriously, don't take it all to heart." He checks his phone for any messages or calls but finds none. "She'll probably call in a few."

"I hope. Honestly, I do." she continues when he doesn't speak and stares into her scotch, wishing she could be one of those people that could break glass with their minds. "But even if you knew Bryn for a little I'm pretty sure she'll just allow you something. She's no bitch."

She glad when she sees part of a smile. "Thanks." His phone chimes and he jumps for it, noticing a new message.

_i'm here at the jit stop come and hurry its raining_

He's out the door before he hears lightning scream and receives an onslaught of drizzle, flattening his hair in thick mats. Kenny looks all around, sees girls holding newspaper overheads and running for shelter, young boys and girls stomping in the puddles and splashing in clonking yellow boots, and a girl – the only he knows wouldn't wear anything but leather in a storm.

"Bryn!" he calls and his accent traces along. She looks and meets his eyes, hers smeared with navy eyeliner and distress. He races over and puts a hand on her raven shag, almost expecting to find a hand fully stained with ink afterward. She snuffles and grabs his arm for stability. "What happened? Are you alright? I've been –"

"Javier's a complete asshole." She drags her words in chains, breaking them yet fixating them in strength. Her dark eye makeup mixed with tears, not even her mouth had usual cherry shade. "I hate him. I _hate _him. If you only knew what he's done, Kenneth. If you only knew what that bastard has done." Her eyes widen and glimmer with delirium. "I want to make him _suffer._"

"You will. I'll help you." he promises only to calm her. Doing his best to ease her. "How will we? How can we begin?"

"Kiss me." she demands in a howl, gritting teeth and breathing low. "Kiss me like you've never kissed another love before! Kiss me now."

He doesn't even bother hesitating.

He puts his mouth on hers with slow urgency, savoring their time and not allowing any vulgar or force seeing the caution in their situation. They were no Holly and Paul. They were no fairytale.

No fairytale could compare to them.


	20. Chapter 20

Harper and the lacrosse guys practice for the upcoming season. They wear jackets over their uniforms and extra padding for their gloves and knees. The wind is chilly and the sun hides behind giant clouds, making him half-expect Sofia Coppola to appear and begin directing a box-office film on sneaky angels and Zen gardens.

He manages with the ball, swerving for the goal but is jabbed in the legs with another jock's rod causing a terrible downfall and a nasty scrape.

It's not purposely. The guy instantly apologizes and takes off his helmet to show his modest gratitude. It was an honest mistake but his purplish knee throbs, anyway. Coach Harmon calls timeout, sounding strangely angry as he directs them into the dugout for a "breakfast break."

"Coach Harmon seems pissed ..." Tim, a Hispanic friend with sideburns and thick eyebrows, muses. "he's never like that. People been sayin' he's having trouble with his wife."

Harper shrugs but doesn't say anything. He never even knew the coach was married because he's always seen murmuring to women teachers or helping girls into cabs when not on the field. It's none of his business to what the coach does out of school. He probably lives a normal life – works till dawn, has three daughters he'll do anything for, kisses his wife every time he leaves their Hudson Yards townhouse. Who knows? Maybe the rumors are true.

"I heard he's cheating on his girl with a Constance chick." his co-captain, Chad, drones. "His wife's all rich. Who'd cheat with a slutty schoolgirl? Seriously."

"Money is everything. Maybe that's why they're together." Tim husks and unbuckles his gloves seeing Coach Harmon create distance with his iPhone. "He's probably finalizing his divorce. Hopefully, he has a prenup."

Chad snorts. "Yeah, we all know what happened with Heather Mills and Paul McCartney. Talk about a hole in his funds."

Tim claps his shoulders. "I say much more than his funds."

"He's probably just talking to his wife about dinner." Harper speaks under his breath, drawing attention to himself and smirks to beat his Bryn's.

"Really, teacher's pet Blackwell? Defending our fave teach? You're the only one hoping for Harmon and his wife. If they break up, do you _know_ how much free time we'll have?" Chad rolls his eyes, mocking him, per usual. Knowing his calm would never burst just to shove his face into the dirt, do his yellow teeth permanent damage, pummel him until he doesn't look like himself, damage his sanity –

Harper scratches his hair. "I'm only saying you shouldn't be gossiping unless you're hiding something. We know about everyone but you." The others are silent, listening on. "Is there something you're not telling us, Chad?"

Chad quiets, his expression crumples before he shoves an infamous finger in his face, sinning and threatening. All in one. "To hell, Blackwell." He grabs his lacrosse stick and heads for the washrooms.

"Another spat between yous guys, huh?" the teammate closest to him, Jason, inquires. "He's ya co-captain so I guess you gots to deal wit him."

He shrugs, searching for the coach. He just wants practice to end for today. It's so exhausting to deal with a pack of gossipy guys. "I guess. It's complicated."

"More complicated than your sister being _pregnant_?"

Harper twists around and glares furiously at Tim, who stares over his cell and avoids his murderous eyes. He skims vigorously and Harper curses, snatching the phone to discover a gossip headline with picture evidence of his sister, indeed.

_Baby Blackwell_?

_I spy with my gossip eye _– _something leather_. _A familiar rock babe_, _I see_. _Talinda B_.? _Adrienne Armstrong_? _Liv Tyler_? _Lily Aldridge_, _maybe_? _Sadly_, _it_'_s_ _none of the above_. _But_, _fortunately_, _it_'_s our own_ _Rocker B purchasing not a guitar but _…_ pregnancy tests_.

_The father_? _More unknown than January Jones_'_ baby daddy_.

_As much as I adore children_, _diaper bags and lullabies don_'_t fit Rocker B_'_s lifestyle_.

Scrolling, he sees photos of his sister, bedecked in Ray Bans and her typical uniform (leather jacket, white blouse, Doc Martens, short skirt), holding a plastic bag with numerous boxes, swigging water with no cigarettes in sight, even having a hand on her belly in a closeup. He knows he shouldn't be jumping to conclusions but with all this as proof …

He bites a nail. Working through a second. Third. Fourth. And so on.

His sister is pregnant? Kid sister? Younger-than-him little sibling? It's so sick, just the thought.

He wishes he could drain his head of memories. Only these. The worse – they don't even count, anyway. They're only distractions and distractions should be erased. Wiped. Deleted.

The jar of his thoughts breaks and he sighs, an exaggeration. But it's becoming more of a distraction.

**X**

"… and then Beatrice sworn she could beat me out of the Continental Crisis Charity."

"_Princess _Beatrice?"

"The very one."

Claire's minions giggle noisily as Claire smiles over them. They sit on the Met Steps and hold espressos, Claire's choice, mostly because … she's their leader. And no one would dare to disobey her. Especially with only a finger-count of brain cells.

"She must be jealous especially of your style. Compared to her …" a girl claims and allows herself a sip of cappuccino. "she's always been low-rate."

"I'm sure Eugenie is jealous. She always has been. It's what she is after all." Another girl narrows her eyes and scratches her nails. "A has been, much like a double-agent servant, who writes tell-all memoirs. It's become so familiar in the UK. She probably will."

Their queen grins. "Most definitely."

"Clarissa," Bryn fakes a grin and approaches, holding her guitar and a leather hobo bag. "my favorite demon. You're looking mighty fine. Think we can have a chat –" She looks around the nosy bees. "Alone?"

Before either can speak, the minions pipe in rapidly.

"Oh, Bryn! You're pregnant!"

"Are you having a boy or girl?"

"I hope you haven't been smoking!"

"Drinking is always hazardous to a child."

Claire signals the girls away. They lumber off reluctantly and Claire smiles widely, worries indenting her dimples. "Is there something wrong, Bryn?" she manages, her tone stabilizing as her face blanches when Bryn doesn't laugh or react. "I heard you haven't been smoking. Did Javier stress you out? Kenny, maybe?"

Bryn digs inside her leather bag and tosses a colorful box into Claire's lap. "Take it." she commands. "I can only take a gossip bullet for so long. Harper will go American Horror Story on me when he finds out. Blast or not, I'm not good with this." She directs again to the tiny box. "It's either take the pregnancy test or –"

"Don't say it aloud!"

Dark eyebrows lower in agitation. "Either _take _the test or enjoy an illegitimate child."

Her mind swirls wonderingly and she squirms. "But I'm scared, Bryn." Claire's voice tones badly and her words crack like a torn accordion. "I don't want this."

Bryn sighs, abusing her efforts. "Who does?" It traces more gratitude, which tentatively relieves Claire to some limits. "I bet celebrities didn't want kids until they came. Gene Simmons even admitted it. Kids aren't such a bad thing, I'm not trying to encourage you, but, you know, in case …" She gazes over her shoulders and grimaces. "just remember, not all kids are good."

Claire doesn't want to look. She's fearful as it is.

But she squares her shoulders and looks around, researching for her minions and a double-shot mocha espresso. Intimidation is always the key. "Aren't you supposed to be getting somewhere?"

Sadly, it never affects Bryn. "No, but you are." She taps the box. "By midnight, this better be a negative."

And she's off, leaving Claire alone with the terrifying stick. How she wishes she could scream without claims of insanity …

She, slowly, turns around as Bryn disappears inside Constance. Javier is sitting on the Met Steps with Matthew. They share a friendly conversation and for this, she almost hates him. He gets to live a normal life while she's suffering with a possible pregnancy.

Where was a nice guy when you needed him?

**X**

"Let's see your stomach. Lift your shirt, Miss Bryn." Bryn does so and covers a side of her ribs, twisting in different angles to show how no bump was visible. Floria bursts into laughter and claps for her. Bryn whoops and they both collapse on Constance's bathroom tiles in smarmy leather-clad limbs and spicy perfumes.

Floria pushes Bryn's shoulders and offers her a thumbs-up. "No bump, no problem."

Bryn rubs her stomach and pouts, parodying herself. "Damn it! I was really hoping for that Frances Bean!"

"Too bad, I won't be a godmother. I was so hoping." Floria wipes tears as Bryn and she slow their giggles in a stall. "Steven's gonna be punching his pillows because he's not the godfather."

"I bet he wishes he can be an uncle!"

"Maybe the father!"

"By far, his best status: St. Jude's Baby Daddy."

"Or is that more Javier's title?"

Bryn silences in seconds and Floria's eyes widen. She feels like she crossed the line. Since Bryn's early leave from the Hamptons, Javier has become a weird topic of discussion and even though it only occurred a weekend ago, it's just been awkward. Kenny hasn't been around lately either, which is also a surprise.

"Nah, it's alright." Bryn scratches her neck and looks for a suitable reply. "Guys, you know. They're so stupid, nowadays."

Floria blinks but follows along with her subject-change. Bryn knew how to avoid horrid silences and bad reactions nicely. "I hear ya, man." She nods and backs against the ugly walls. "Dudes are just _ugh_. Trust me. I know the worse Matts and Stevens of the world."

"Don't forget the Javiers." They agree with nods. "They're mega-assholes."

"Sorry, but there's only one mega-asshole Javier in this world." Floria raises her eyebrows a smidge. "And I believe, that's the one you confessed your love to."

Bryn slumps her shoulders, scratches her nose and rolls her eyes. "I knew it was wrong." She doesn't ask how Floria knows. Nosy Claire probably just eavesdropped on her unfortunate admittance. "You know, I'm not used to this lovey-dovey crap. I tried, even if it was an accident. Love isn't for me. It just … isn't."

_Ouch_.

Three of Claire's minions chortle loudly and head for the sinks. Bryn and Floria are seemingly invisible to them, which is how they like to stay. It's always better to keep this way. They wait until they're gone to continue on their subject of bad romances.

Before they can, Bryn's Blackberry signals a text and she startles for it. Scans it over, doesn't reply, jaw clenching in astonishment.

"Are you okay?" Floria leans in but Bryn hides the message and nods. "Who from, anyway?"

Bryn lulls around and pockets her phone. "Only my bro. He was asking about dinner and junk."

"Oh, um … cool." She smiles for Bryn's sake. Then, her nose twitches. "Ew, it smells totally rank."

"Weed can do that to you, dude."

_Not like that but another lie_. _There_'_s always more to come_. _And they don_'_t always smell like teen spirit_.

**X**

"Tinsley!" Dean dashes over to her just as she's leaving the courtyard for lunch. Bryn hadn't come to Music Instruction, so she decided not to invite her. It's been odder since she hasn't seen her all day. Gossip blasts have been targeted at her since her supposed pregnancy. Nothing exactly believable.

Dean catches his breath, hunching his palms on his knees as he does so. His uniform is sloppy and his sneakers are gross, giving him the appearance of an unattractive beggar. Something Claire would undoubtedly poke fun of, if she were here.

"Hi ..." he mutters and his breath reeks of old coffee. "we haven't spoken in so long. I didn't mean to barrage you or anything, but, have you seen Claire?"

"Earlier in the courtyard, yeah," Which was the truth. She didn't really have a motivation for lying. "She was with her usual group of girls, trading stupid rumors." Her eyebrows knit in concern. "Why? Is everything alright?"

Half of his mouth twitches in a scowl. "It's complicated."

_Ah_, _forever the UES mantra_.

"It involves Claire and it's so stupid … but, I'll tell you when I find her," His narrow eyes betray his emotions: distrust, dishonesty, disappointment. "_if _I find her."

Tinsley smiles for him, looking to mend his broken emotions. "I'm sure you will." she assures, her smile becoming intact. "Claire can only hide behind her minions for so long."

"As the school year can only last forever." He nudges her shoulder and works a smile. "I'll see you around?"

Her smile thickens as she waves him off. Once he's a good distance away, she grabs her phone and messages Claire: _dean has been looking for u_.

Barely seconds later, she gets a response: _I_'_ve been_ _tryin to keep him at bay_.

Tinsley rolls her eyes and doesn't reply. She heads out and vanishes into the concrete streets.

Believable. It just isn't the word anymore.

At least not when involving Claire.

**X**

"We have to go see Breaking Dawn. You heard that damn movie is still in the theaters?"

"'Cause of Jacob's abs, right? That's why Tracy dragged me to go see the second movie."

Bryn accepts a cigarette from Matt. "Dude, she was a major spaz." She drags and blows smoke in the humid afterschool distance.

Matt smiles and doesn't argue. "She was. But, honestly, was a good ba …"

"_Bryn!_"

They both look away to see Harper, dragging a large equipment bag and seething madly. She hands her cigarette to Matt and arises off the steps, dusting herself off and preparing for his emotional blunder.

He drops his bag, his expression unchanging, grabbing her shoulders and bringing her to meet his eyes. Her height was the worst thing about her. When her boots weren't on the ground, she was harmless.

"Dude!" Matt throws their cigarettes and stubs them. Bryn directs him off.

"Please, tell me, you're not pregnant." Harper begs, his words quivering like battered machines.

Oh, goddamn Claire. "Uh, I can't exactly tell you that."

"Really, Bryn? _Really_?" he commands, hardening his grip. "You're sixteen –"

"Seventeen, Harper. Like the magazine."

" – seventeen! And this _cannot_ be happening! You will not be going on some shitty MTV show! I swear on Mom if it's not …" Bryn sees a familiar blonde over his shoulders and smirks. "What are you smiling at?"

"You swore on Mom." She laughs a little. "I gotta use that now."

"It's _not _funny."

Matt squints and gestures over the blonde. He's obviously caught-on. "Oh, look, here's the baby daddy!" He cups his hands around his mouth and shouts: "Javier!"

Javier blinks and assesses the situation, racing over. His satchel flapping against his sides, Matt winks over the Blackwell siblings and backs off, finding himself another cigarette as he glances between them.

"Javier, tell me. None of this is true." Harper's face is reddening, looking almost comical. "You're probably the only sane one."

His eyes narrow and Javier glares at Harper, looks at Bryn in confusion. She nods and doesn't say a word. His solemn breathing deciphers an answer. "Sorry, man," he apologizes and his arms slacken. "It's entirely true."

Harper's eyes widen. He sets Bryn down and stomps off with his equipment bag, grumbling foreign curses and disappearing out into Park Avenue.

Bryn dusts off her shoulders and smiles. "Wow. He believed you over me. That's a sad case of neglecting."

Matt claps one of her shoulders. "Next time, prepare me on something like this. Cue cards, kid."

"Okay, promise on Mom." Matt laughs and heads out, leaving her and Javier alone.

Javier tucks his hands in his coat. "Prepare me, too. I wouldn't exactly be thrilled if you actually _did _have my child in you."

"You mean your spawn? No, thank god." She cradles her stomach mockingly. "I'd rather have my boyfriend's child in me."

The shock on his face is priceless. It's why she wants to berate and embarrass him, like he did her. "Yes, boyfriend. A guy, who hasn't known me as long, asked me out. A _man_ admitted he would do anything and everything for me." She breaks the distance between them in three footfalls. "A man. Something you'll never be."

"Because you have such a man?" Javier caresses her hips and yanks her in, his face lowering into her throat, breath heating her ears and insides. She couldn't take this, she couldn't do this, she had _someone _else. "Because I know Kenneth could never treat you …" His mouth flaming her neck, seeking her. "As good as I do."

She could hear her heart, she was sure he could feel it. She couldn't stand this. She wasn't a cheater.

Bryn struggles out of his arms, finding he isn't reluctant to have her. "Don't touch me." She points at him darkly. "Get a fucking life. I already told you. Head back to your whores, I can't stand you. Leave me alone already." The words shiver on her tongue. "I hate you. I _hate _you."

She waits for him to speak, to proclaim his innocent, to threaten her. But he doesn't. He doesn't do anything.

So she rearranges herself and marches off.

Javier watches her vanish and smiles. Nothing could make her resist him, which he didn't have to lie for.

He sees a familiar blur of bronze curls pass him and heads for.

This day was turning out to be better than he expected.

**X**

**Yeah, Breaking Dawn is still in the theaters, where I live. Trust me. It was better than the others … kinda.**


	21. Chapter 21

"Seriously, this is why we're dating." Bryn accepts the paper bag of pancakes that Kenny hands her, hands radiating their golden heat. Kenny smiles and loops an arm around her shoulders, marching them to school. "By the way, you still sick? I can't really have pinkeye germs on me, if you are."

Kenny arches an eyebrow and directs to his glasses. "Why do you think I'm still wearing these?"

Bryn spins out of his grip, holding the pancakes at a distance. He laughs and gestures her over. "I'm kidding," he says and gesture again, to which she doesn't waver. He rolls his eyes and his smile dissolves. "You're acting like I'm gonna kiss you with my eye. I'm not sick anymore."

She points to the garbage cans on the curb. "Those are probably cleaner than you."

His eyebrows narrow before a smirk bursts on. "Because I know how you're never drug-tested every time you leave for school."

"Harper actually brought me a breathalyzer." Kenny collapses into laughter. "Seriously, I never use it though. It's the biggest waste of life."

They continue on, she still keeping a good range away. "As if it's actually a waste of money." he assumes. "You're set for life, my doll."

She slowly approaches and indicates herself. "Really? What's my name?"

He blinks. "Bryn, I hope."

"Correct. That's how it stays." She replaces herself beside him. "You don't see me giving _you _a nickname."

He smiles to please her. "That's because Kenny doesn't go with anything."

"It goes with South Park," She shrugs and stops to think. "and it goes with Bryn."

"And you say I'm a romantic." His smile softens and he reaches to put an arm around her, to which she allows for this time. "You are such a good girl."

"I'm as much of a good girl as Lindsay Lohan." She pouts, her mouth pursing into a dramatic line. "Come on, we have to go. I'd rather not be late to school … for now, at least."

He exaggeratedly straightens his St. Jude's tie, doing the same with the buttons on his blazer. He's sure he can see her struggling to hide a smirk, fiddling with some Brody Dalle pins on her jacket. "Alright, fine." His shoulders slacken affectively. "Just to let you know, you're missing out."

"You're good," she says and begins to laugh. "You're _so _good."

She watches him corner her against the brownstone next-door, his hands closing the distance between them and their mouths following. The inferno in their kiss scorches her mouth and insides, he pulls her in and rumbles her emotions, and just as she's reaching for his tie –

_Sometimes_,_ I give myself the creeps_. _Sometimes_,_ my mind plays tricks on me_.

Kenny startles before realizing what it is. "Green Day, huh?"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry." Bryn silences the ringer to find a new text from Floria. Why'd she have to bother her now? She was in the middle of early … activities with her boyfriend. She didn't have the time for little reminders and invitations to Rodney's. Maybe she could invite Kenny tonight. "Hold on. Lemme check, it might be an emergency."

She opens the message and sees a forward to a gossip blast and _you wouldn_'_t believe it_. Really? Really, Flor?

Bryn rolls her eyes and waits for the webpage to load. "My best friend is such a dumbass." The site slowly comes into focus, so she distracts herself with Kenny. "She's sending me some gossip blast. It's so stupid, trust me. Almost every girl in Con …" Her words fall dead.

"Are you okay?" he asks, seeing her expression not differ. "Bryn?" He leans in to investigate her phone.

_Couple Alert_!

_New couples sprout like illegitimate celeb babies_. _You enjoy them but not forever_. _That_'_s exactly the thing with our newest hookup_, _which I_'_m nonetheless glad to be announcing first and foremost_. _Take that_, _Us Weekly_!

_I_, _hereby_, _announce the beginning of what could be just another Kim_-_Kris_: _Elle Mac_ – _oops_, _Cullen_ & _Javier Dominguez_. _Throw confetti_, _pop champagne_, _happy dance to Sexy and I Know It_!

… _or just sob your eyes out because our favorite bachelor is no longer single_.

And below, is a picture of his sister, Elle, and the bastard, Javier. Kissing.

He returns his eyes to Bryn and sees her in complete shock, arms frail as empty garden hoses.

It feels better to know he's not the only one losing it.

**X**

Harper cleans his lacrosse sticks with a dishrag before he can leave midmorning lacrosse. Everyone has already exited the field, including Coach Harmon. The sky has become a humid indigo, the grass is choppy, and his knee is more alienated than ever. Looking and feeling battered with an iron club.

The week after the Hamptons came and went. He and Tinsley enjoyed many more outings and Bryn eventually persuaded him into not believing the pregnancy rumor, which she never happened to elaborate why it was sprung. He didn't ask, nor did he want an answer.

It was the way to go, as far as he knew.

He shoves his equipment in a bag and zips it, slinging the strap on one shoulder. He squints in the horizon and notices Tinsley's familiar silhouette. He smiles widely and waves her over.

She does so and kisses him passionately as they meet, peaks of tongue brightening the interaction. They break off and share large smiles. "Harper, you wouldn't believe it!" she exclaims, a contagious grin spreading across her face. "You're now look – what happened to your knee?"

Damn, she noticed it, too. "Oh, just fell on the field sometime before." She doesn't appear convinced. "Don't worry about it. I'm getting it checked out soon." _Ugh_, _lying_. _The beginning stages of Bryn_. "What's up with you?"

She drops the subject. "I'm one of the new interns for Rogue." Her grin reappears, bordering on immediate caution. "It's unbelievable but mind-blowing. I haven't really told many people yet. Only Matt, because I ran into him, like, a second ago."

For some reason, this gives him a trace of jealously. Why did Matthew have to know before him? Tinsley wasn't dating him. No matter whom she saw first, it should've been him. _It should_'_ve been him_.

"My mom is throwing a little celebration in The Dutch. For my achievement." she continues, her voice displaying a touch of misdoubt. "I'd love for you to come. It gives you a good opportunity to meet my family."

_Family_: a scarce memory of what he once had. He didn't have much in his thoughts or reality of a family. His sister, Bryn, was all he really had. Dad's gone. Mom's never really around. So in conclusion, it isn't exactly much.

Relationships aren't easy. Nothing's a game in the romance world. You can't just succeed and basically possess things like in a monopoly. He can't trust anyone, really. Parents are either dead and/or careless, Bryn is oblivious, and Tinsley is … questionable.

Everyone's questionable around this time, always revolving a cycle of mistrust and dishonesty.

He's always stuck in the middle. Trapped in the whirlwind that is his life.

He realizes she's still waiting for an answer, patience thinning. "Okay, that's agreeable? Say around seven-ish?"

"Perfect." Her voice is venomous, sizzling like the wildfires in his brain. "I'll text you directions." He watches her leave and slumps against the bench again, seeing her disappear is an old memory.

Monopolies aren't easy either.

**X**

"Toss it, man!" Steven gestures with maddened fingers at a little boy he found in Central Park, who has freckles and well-conditioned curls and a Frisbee. "Come on! Toss!"

The little boy, probably around eight, nods and throws it. The orange disk cartwheels in the air before Steven jumps and catches it in both hands, he smiles his gratitude. "Good one, dude."

Matt reclines on the border of the Bethesda Fountain. It's around lunchtime and the fountain's waterfalls spray overhead delicately, his aviators reflecting solitude. Javier leans against the ledge, watching the sights of the park and embracing the familiar noises: birdcalls, rustling of bare branches, tourists snapping pictures of the fountain and the tallest trees.

"He's like a kid," Javier says, raising one eyebrow. "If that's any surprise to you."

Matt shifts on the fountain, his legs dangerously stretched over the rippling water. "Not really," he says, tilting his shades to acknowledge his risen brows. "Steven's always acted like a big kid. It's his thing. Believe it or not, he's surprisingly mature. He's the oldest out of all of us."

Javier leans in. "Really … how?"

"I don't think you'd really want me to explain the physics." He sets his sunglasses back in place. "He failed a grade. So he's nineteen."

The words come before he can stop them. "Is that why his parents disowned him?"

Matt waits a minute before replying: "Partially. His parents are assholes, which is basically it." He tucks his arms behind his head. "They always yelled at him when he got a bad grade, cursed him out when he didn't do something right, treated him like outright dirt. It was kind-of a relief to see them finally breakoff to me."

"Are you close with your parents?" The curiosity is overwhelming. He usually isn't this questioning. However, since he doesn't have many friends, he isn't exactly used to this.

His head lolls as Matt searches for a response. "Eh, kinda," he deducts. "More my mom, than my dad. It's hard to explain, you know. My parents aren't going on their twentieth year of marriage. I got good ol' divorcées that had me before they were twenty."

His throat tightens. He didn't know _any_ of that. "I'm sorry. That sucks."

Matt's returning smile is bitter, as if he just drank vinegar. "It's not as bad as it seems. Trust my brother and my real family." And he directs his fingers to Steven and further, just as he finishes the small game. "They're all I really need. Compared to the assholes of the world."

A poisonous laugh escapes Javier. "I have to agree with you there."

Steven hurries back. "Matt, man, I'm drained. I could just –" He smiles mischievously. "I could just do this!" He shoves Matt with both hands, who grabs Javier's arm as not to lose balance. He looks relieved until he hears a shallow _plop_.

He searches his pockets and his expression angers in a teeth-baring frown. "I'm gonna _kill you_!" Steven is already running when he fishes his phone out of the fountain. He places it on the stone to dry and shakes his head in a vicious string of curses.

"Was that waterproof?" Javier asks.

"No. Watch my stuff. I'm gonna go kick some ass." Then he's gone, too.

Despite himself, Javier smiles and nods, doing as told.

So _that_'_s _what brothers are like.

**X**

"You _never _told me you were a teacher."

Hunter lowers his clipboard and smiles, an attempt of sensual charm. "Technically, I'm a coach." he replies coyly, gesturing into the field and the maintenance man, who was currently repainting the boundary lines. He returns his gaze to Floria, her fallen jaw revealing disbelief. "Aren't you supposed to be getting to class?"

Her jaw clenches in a childish huff. "Aren't _you _supposed to be attending to a team?"

"Later." Hunter's eyes shift beyond her shoulders. She doesn't dare ask. "I'm serious. Do you not have class or should I have to write a detention? I'm more than prepared to do so."

Floria backs off, her eyebrows pinched. What's with his attitude? She's done nothing wrong to him. Since he'd been lying to her, she should have his reactions. He was no better than her, the betrayer.

Her reply is hateful. "Then do it, _teach_."

His knuckles whiten as he clamps the clipboard, mouth becoming a grim scowl, and eyes unfurling ecstasy. And within this, she wants to kiss him. She wants to kiss the coach. She wants to be trouble, she wants –

"Hunter, darling!"

They startle at a woman's presence. Her peroxide blonde hair fastened with pins into a Chignon, she wears minimal makeup and a shirtdress, hung off her arm is a Hermès Victoria bag, and on her finger is a stunning ring. Glittering as the galaxies must do.

"Oh, I know, I've came so early." she chirps. "But I just decided to because I'd left work extremely early today. Those little girls were being rotten again. I'm glad I don't have any," She notices Floria and her expression darkens, her lip curling in disgust. "Speaking of, who might she be?

Hunter's smile subsides and he doesn't look at all like himself. The solemn in his face, the hardening in his jaw, the twitch of his nose, the stiffness of his mouth. He doesn't look like the friendly coach, the good guy, the "teacher who cares." He looks like nobody. He looks like nothing.

"She's just a kid, Ruby." Her heart sinks. She turns to Hunter and sees him avoiding her, erasing her from his trace of thoughts and possible self. Ruby looks over her critically. The coach's wife would have to.

Floria forces a smile. "Yeah, I'm sorry." Her throat is constricted but her words are calm. "I just came to ask Coach Harmon about my friend on the lacrosse team. Sorry for interrupting."

Ruby's tone is clipped. It should be. She's a professional. "It's fine," She waves as a token of goodbye. "I'd say it was a pleasure. Ruby Harmon. Good to meet you."

She can barely nod. Humiliation flames her heart. She hitches her bag onto another shoulder and heads for her courtyard, shoulders limply still as she's off.

Why didn't she suspect this? It was obvious a man like him was married. He was basically St. Jude's royalty. How couldn't she predict this? The questions further her deeper in shame.

She takes a risk and turns back. Ruby is chattering and clasping his hands, beaming like a newlywed. Hunter, however, is distant. And when he notices her staring, he manages a little smile.

Some part of her wants to smile back. But the other, wants the opposite. He embarrassed her. He was ruthless and for this, she doesn't want him anymore.

So she turns on her heels and exits the field.

Not even caring how his smile melts.

_Well_, _maybe_, _a little_.

**X**

"We _need _to talk."

The authority in Dean's voice stuns her. Claire rises and excuses herself from her minions. The pregnancy test had turned to be negative and she screamed to Bryn in delight, inviting her over and drinking peach schnapps until the next morning. All's been good, other than the total isolation from Dean.

Not that it's entirely a problem. He was the one to nearly-impregnate her with a Brooklyn child. The thought of Combos and attending Gap sales made her want to gag.

She fakes innocence, despite everything. "Is there something wrong, Dean?"

He ignores her. Once when they're a reasonable distance off, he speaks. Looking like the opposite of himself. "So when did you think you were going to tell me about this –" He points to her stomach, his eyes dark. "_this _dilemma?"

Not even she can control her gasp. Dean's eyes soften but don't fully-change. "I can explain … it wasn't real. The test was a negative."

"I'm pretty sure you wouldn't have told me either way." His voice is light, tenderized with distrust. "And that's what hurts most."

If it were impossible, she'd think her heart could've blown into bits. Maybe it did. She's never paid any attention to cardiology physics. "It wouldn't have mattered," Her throat closes. "I could've gotten rid of it."

"Good thing _it _didn't exist." He shakes his head in disgust and stares at the courtyard for distraction. "I thought I could trust you. I really trusted you and you betrayed me. You're just like everyone else."

"No, I'm not!" She struggles with her voice and to have it at a reasonable volume. "I've _never_ been like that."

Dean's mouth curls in a tongue-gnawing snarl. "There's no use in lying anymore." He fans a hand around himself, trying to rid himself of sweat. "Whatever we had … whatever friendship, relationship, interest I've had in you is done. We're over."

He doesn't wait for her protest. Not that she'd have anything after that.

She sees his eyes enlarge and narrow in a finale. He awkwardly adjusts his schoolbag and heads off again, his footfalls thrumming a pattern.

"Dean, wait –" Her stiletto boots clap forward as she reaches a hand for him. Her fingers flop in defeat at their distance. At the distance she created.

A simple tear escapes an eye. She dries it before it can ruin her mascara. Her first job is to be a queen, a ruler. Not a whiny girl, who sobbed over breakups and Titanic reruns.

She returns to her clique with a vengeance. Being queen is what matters.

**X**

"Oh, Harper, I've heard plenty about you." Harper doesn't even have to introduce himself before Tinsley's mother, Franca, steps in. "Tinsley has spoken highly of you. I know you're captain of the St. Jude's lacrosse team, Luciana and Jackson's son, and a boy with a heart of gold. I can see why Tinsley chose you."

Tinsley blushes, twirling her outdone waves. "_Mom _…"

"Nonsense, sweets," Franca shakes her dark honey curls and places a hand upon Harper's shoulder. Her hand is festooned entirely in fancy diamond rings. "Harper is quite the glorious one. There's no use in lying to him. Wouldn't you say so, Tyler?"

Which is who, Tinsley didn't tell him about. Tyler Hastings: her thirteen year-old brother. He holds no grudge because if it were possible to hide Bryn, then he probably would've done so.

"Yeah." he grumbles and fidgets with his colorful wristbands. "Are we gonna eat now?"

Tinsley looks close to chastising Tyler until Harper intervenes. He's used to oblivious little siblings. "Yeah, buddy. I'll treat you to dessert, only if you're good." Harper smiles timidly and continues. "And maybe, I'll tell you about some of my lacrosse misadventures."

Tyler's face alights like a shooting star. "Awesome!" He grabs Harper's wrist and leads them in. "Come on, I gotta lots of stories, too! Have you ever played Halo?"

Franca sighs dreamily and cups her face. "Wow. He's certainly great with kids."

Tinsley's heart flutters, the ice in her thaws. She was stupid to have judged him. He's so much better than she thought. Being great with kids would probably be his best trait.

"Yes." she agrees with a nod, her silver feather earrings swinging. "He definitely is."

**X**

_I_'_m a cold heartbreaker_  
_Fit to burn and I_'_ll rip your heart in two_  
_An_'_ I_'_ll leave you lyin_'_ on the bed_

Steven, Matt, and their bandmates are on Rodney's stage. They never dress for their performances as dry-ice smoke clouds their feet, ecstasy-ridden teens dance foolishly. Girls toss their multicolored hair, boys pump their fists and scream the lyrics, their jewelry jingles as the music does, and sweat glistens off them. The air smells of euphoria, cheap perfumes, nonalcoholic ciders, and musk.

"They're great. I feel ashamed to never have seen them." Kenny admits to Bryn. He's dressed in a Kings of Leon shirt and jeans and ancient sneakers. "Maybe one day I'll see you gracing the stage?"

Bryn nods, directing him a smirk. "Much more than one day. I'm always up there. Matt just really needs a chance to flaunt his talent. He's real shy when it comes to doing so."

"I wouldn't think so. His aura illuminates the opposite of timid." His logic makes Bryn laugh and she playfully elbows his ribs. In return, he closes in for a kiss, which she immediately deepens with a slash of ruthless tongue.

_Click_, _clank_, _click_ –

"Ay, Kenneth. I've been searching for you everywhere."

They pause to find a girl with flawless bronze curls and intense eyes and an English accent, scrutinizing them. Kenny holds a protective arm around Bryn. Maybe she's seen her somewhere.

Kenny exhales like Harper does when he's distraught. "Elle, why are you here?"

Oh, Elle. Javier's slut – correction: girlfriend.

"My darling of a boyfriend invited me." Elle twists her curls and designates to Javier, where he receives two Orange Whips from a bartender. She smiles joyfully and sighs an exaggeration. "And you're Kenneth's girlfriend? I'm sure he could've done better."

Kenny's arm strangles her ribs. She's glad for it because she's inches from ripping the girl's hair from her roots. "Watch it," he sneers. "I don't exactly see Prince William on your arm."

Elle's eyebrows arch. "Oh, that hurts. But your American accent isn't exactly believable."

"What are you talking about? You sound like his stalker-ex." Bryn interrupts. She wouldn't let anyone insult her boyfriend. Especially no girlfriend of Javier.

Her eyes narrow in Bryn's scowl. "I wouldn't exactly talk, if I were you."

His arms slump off Bryn and he disperses the distance between him and Elle. "Mind your fucking business!" And Bryn can hear the hints of a brogue matching Elle's. "What I do ain't yer problem! Stay out of me life! Keep _out_! Keep the fuck out!"

The music is still roaring. The clubbers are raving and the performers are unknowing. Elle's mouth turns and Javier returns with the drinks, glaring between Kenny and Bryn questioningly. Kenny faces Bryn sadly, his eyes softening with her. It feels like an ending.

"I'm so sorry." He kisses her hands and flees. His honesty is more audible than ever.

Bryn watches him leave. Her chest clenches and her breath freezes. He doesn't see her expression because she's already gone in the crowd.

**X**

"Harper, are there any universities that you plan on applying for?"

He's inches from stabbing himself with a fork. Franca is pleasant but with all the talk on lacrosse trophies he didn't have, family charity work, and college applications are exhausting. He hadn't even completed a college application and the endless applications were enough to not want to talk about.

Dad was skilled in this. He'd have to answer proudly, too. "Columbia or NYU, I think. I'm working hard on the applications. It isn't one of the easiest processes."

She nods in agreement. Tinsley directs her gaze to her pasta salad. "I understand. I've graduated from Sarah Lawrence and Tinsley's father from Harvard. It isn't at all a ballgame."

_How exactly do you understand_, _Mrs_._ H_?

"Speaking of, where exactly is Mr. Hastings?" Harper interferes, changing the subject. Tinsley's expression deflates and Tyler splurges on a fudge sundae, smudging his hands with chocolate.

Franca shrugs, looking suddenly like a careless teen. She sure did act like one. "He's always in his office, a day-and-night activity for him. But look at this ring!" She holds out her right hand and he admires the chestnut-sized diamond on her finger, banded in platinum. "He's so thoughtful! It's probably one of my grandest anniversary gifts … with the exception of Tyler."

Tyler raises an eyebrow. "Ew?"

If it were possible to explain his boredom, he'd do so. This has to be his worst date/experience of his life. He isn't any good at meeting families but this isn't even remotely average. It's so strange to be here.

"I'm so bored." Tyler groans, scraping his dessert bowl clean. "Can't we do something fun?"

"Agreed," Tinsley's fork clinks across the porcelain and she deals Harper a smile, her eyes apologetic. "Harper, mind sharing some good lacrosse stories with Tyler while Mom and I head to the washrooms?"

Finally, something he was good at. "Of course," He nods as Franca heads for the restrooms. Tinsley lingers behind and whispers her apologies in his ear. He shares his favorite lacrosse story to Tyler, which consisted of muddy uniforms and an uncalled rainstorm.

Tinsley winks as she follows her mother. He matches her with a meek grin.

Maybe this night would be better than he thought.

**X**

Everyone is outside. The performance ended with a _bang_. Rodney and his staff hand out paper lanterns to the clubbers. The spheres alighting like fireflies as they're released into the evening. People _ooh _and _aah _as the taillights fade off. Some drunken idiots bid them farewells as they disappear.

Javier exits the club, searching for Matt and Steven. Elle fled after Kenny, whispering ruefully as Kenny fled without any evidence. He saw Bryn's face contort agony as she fought into the crowd, cursing herself and everything else. He'd go after her, if she'd listen. But, that was an inevitable expectation.

He looks around and notices Bryn. She's mixed within the crowd, venting to Floria. Her eyes are red, as if she'd been weeping. She stares off and cleans her eyes, her hands withdrawing puddles of blue eyeliner.

Floria embraces her with one arm, nuzzling her curls into Bryn's shoulder. He doesn't see either of their faces, nor does he hope to. He never could tolerate tears.

Steven and Matt clash past him. They block his view of the girls and he forgets about the lanterns. Mostly everyone is retreating back in the club in the hopes of an encore as they cheer on the guys: clapping their backs, shoving their biceps, nudging their stomachs. Neither of them pay mind.

Javier can't extract his gaze. Isn't spying a sin?

Rodney exchanges little nothings with the group. Matt explains and nods him off.

"Come on, Bryn. It's a little tiff," he hears Floria say. "Nothing totally – shh, shh … Jett, come on."

Matt moves beside Bryn. Steven caresses her hair and murmurs nonsense. He can finally see her and wishes he hadn't.

She's collapsed into Floria, her hands barring her face from their eyes. Sobbing like a child, seeming nothing like herself, nothing like the rowdy punk he met in the club. Was it that long ago?

"Everyone l-lies to me," Bryn's voice is muffled but clear, her sobs are heartbreaking. "This has t-to be … his doing. I … I –"

And he never thought it were imaginable to sense an ache, until his heart hammers and stings more than it did with Vena's proclamations of infidelity.

"I thought we were forever."


	22. Chapter 22

_His fingers rip across the cords of his guitar_, _urging turbulence into the riveting throng of senseless teens_. _He howls his lyrics and jolts across the stage_, _dancing erratically and angling himself to the crowd_. _His expression glistens in a mix of sweat_, _the blood from his swollen mouth_, _and a pinch of cologne_ – _his insides ablaze and rumbling_, _the melodies working his nerves_, _and everything is becoming reality_.

_They cheer his name_. _Repeat his lyrics_. _Display posters of him and the band_. _Autographed memorabilia_, _magazine covers_, _concert tees_, _vinyl albums_. _The fame is intense_. _He wasn_'_t expecting all of this_.

_He investigates the arena_, _looking for a familiar face_. _Steven_, _Bryn_, _Floria_, _the glitter sluts from Rodney_'_s_, _the buddies he_'_d down Jell-O Shots with_. _Not even the people from school were around_.

_Everyone is still applauding_, _encouraging_, _pleading for an encore_. _But_, _it makes him feel so claustrophobic_.

_The guitar flutters from his fingers_, _clanking emptily upon the stage_. _He_'_s gone_. _He doesn_'_t feel like himself_.

_His gaze sweeps to the ceiling and his vision is dead_. _The silence is nice_.

"Matthew, I will say one more time. How many waffles do you want?" Motionless silence follows. "That's it. You're getting one. Not that you need the pounds."

Matt startles in realization, his nostrils afloat with the whiffs of golden waffles, a banquet of delicacies, and a pitcher of homemade orange juice. He blinks hastily and sees a woman in her thirties, tossing a spatula between her hands. She has her unruly hair in a ponytail and skinny limbs, tattoos on her ankles and hands, and a mouth glistening with lip-gloss.

They stare at one another and Matt breaks their gaze first. "Sorry about that," He bonks his head and forks a waffle, slicing it into little triangles. "I was imagining my … career."

Her mouth twists in a comforting smile. "No apologies needed." She taps the spatula against her palm. "A career is the main thing in someone's life, per my words. Don't think I got that shit from a psychic." She switches off the stove and leans against the cupboards. "So what's it this time? High-end studio or Scott Weiland's mansion?"

She knows of his persisting rocker dreams. They always end the same way. He's in someone's extravagant mansion or recording booth or onstage, channeling his finest Paul Stanley and he freezes, an ocean of cons swarming him as he's granted a dark finale. The pattern always remains the same.

"Onstage." he says and stirs his waffles. "I passed-out in front of a badass audience. Like, they were screaming and knew my name and everything. But I didn't see anyone I knew. It was terrifying."

"Nightmares have that effect." She agrees with a series of nods. "I once had a dream I saw you doing coke. Scared me to death. I swore it was real. I went Dog Chapman on you and it was like you didn't care. It was the useless I've ever felt. When I woke up, your father was like: 'Oh, calm yourself, Lorena. Matthew ain't like that.'"

He nods and drowns a waffle with orange juice. "Ain't?"

She rolls her eyes. "Goddamn, you're such a grammar Nazi. Still, I was pretty scarred. I thought you were doing the crack behind my back for weeks. When you have your own kids –"

"_If _I have my own kids –"

"You gotta quit interruptin'." She cracks her knuckles and Matt frightens a little. She smirks and laughs harmlessly. "Calm it, kid. I'm as useless as your dad. Speaking of, aren't you supposed to be gettin' to school?"

Matt inhales his waffle bits. "Maybe later …" He swigs orange juice and an eruption of coolness settles in his stomach. "Aren't you supposed to be heading to work?"

"Seeing as I'm my own boss. I've got it lucky." She swipes a waffle off his plate and hands it to him, glides to the living room, and grabs his two bags. "Get outta my house. I love you madly. But seriously, what kinda mother would I be, if I let my kid stay home?"

He accepts his bags with a lighthearted pout. "A good one …"

She laughs and whacks his arm jokily. "I already am, you little ass. Now, put on your good jacket." She notices his revulsion at the Burberry jacket on the coatrack. "Come on. You have so many good coats and you choose that old leather one. It's Burberry, Matt. And I didn't even have to pay for it."

Matt approaches it and touches the fabric warily. His eyes narrow and he returns his gaze to his mother.

She offers a bleak shrug. "Your father brought it. Matt, it's form-fitted and everything. Another kid would be dying to have it."

He looks off and drops the sleeve. "Since when have you defended Dad?"

"Since your father buys you nice things and you never care for them." She designates her palms to him. On her fingers are inscriptions of foreign poems and on her knuckles. "I don't have to respect him. But, you do. It's that jacket or nothing. Your leather is in the cleaners." He heads for the door without the designer coat. "Where are you going?"

"I'm gonna be late for Jude's."

"Are you takin' the coat?"

"Nope."

She sighs, surrendering her motives. "I thought so."

**X**

Bryn opens her locker and is met with a collage of KISS posters. She smiles and crams a notebook in the ruin of worksheets and lightweight textbooks. Kenny's been absent from school for personal issues. After the fiasco with Elle, she hasn't seen him and has only received a number of reassuring texts, offering her anxiousness and not placation.

She finds herself a mirror in the mess. Arranging it on her locker and loosening her hair from a ponytail, allowing the disheveled strands to grace her shoulders. She'd washed it this morning. Hoping to see Kenny, hoping to see her boyfriend and a variety of compliments, and share a night of love-making …

But it's been the same for years. Her appearance matters to nobody.

She retrieves her hairclip and twists her hair in a bun.

"You should keep your hair down more often." And a continuation, "It's beautiful like that."

Bryn shuts her locker with a loud _slam_ and grimaces. Javier leans against the lockers neighboring her. He smirks and his eyes cast to the length of her skirt and raise back to meet her. "Okay, seeing as you just undressed me with your eyes. I think that's your cue to leave."

"I came to ask you something." He interrupts before she can add a snide comment. "Not involving anything sexual. I have a girlfriend now. Infidelity isn't on my agenda."

Some part of her stings at _girlfriend_. He has a lasting relationship and hers is more irrelevant than ever. The proclamation makes her want Kenny and she glares at her boots, so he won't see her eyes.

"What is it?"

She returns to his eyes and sees his widen in recognition. His expression is significant, mortifyingly so. Like he wants to say something he never would. She waits for him, no matter how everything in her screams against it.

They shouldn't be together. They couldn't. Not after … everything. She can't love him. She was supposed to love Kenny.

Commitment's always been an issue for her.

He steps in. One of his hands rises to her face and he frames it. She catches the wrist of his comforting hand and twists her finger in his sleeve. Pleading is so against her.

His hand doesn't move. She hopes she's hurting him. He deserves the pain.

"I know you hate me …" he murmurs. "A lot of people do. When I saw you crying for Kenny, I felt terrible. I know you'll never do that for me and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what Elle did and I'm sorry for what I've done. I've never apologized to anyone before you and I'm not doing this for you to accept me. I just wanted to get it to you. No catch, no joke, just apologies."

She extracts his hand and hitches her studded bag upon her shoulder. Nods and tightens her mouth. Javier is speechless and waiting, acting nothing like Kenny. Her chest flutters with relief. Again, it bothers her.

Then, she smiles. Her throat is scratchy but liable. "One of the most famous Nirvana songs is called 'Come As You Are.' A lot of us know it. Matt sang it to me on my fifteenth birthday. It never referred to me but I think it does you. Listen to it, sometime. Maybe you'll get it."

Despite everything, he manages a smirk. "Does this mean I'm forgiven?"

"This means you're on probation." She mirrors his same smirk. "Don't screw with me, alright? This time, keep your girlfriend on a leash. I don't need to bust a dog's face in."

He laughs, something she could probably only draw from him. "I'll do my best. And I'd prefer you don't. I wouldn't want my girlfriend having to get a botched Jenner-facelift."

"I swear on my imaginary lovechild, if that accounts for anything." she says and settles her hands in her jacket. It was easier to hide the shaking. The minute-bell rings. "You're gonna get detention, FYI."

"It's worth it. I've gotten everything off my mind." His smirk doesn't falter. "I'll be seeing you?"

She points to her locker. "I'll be here."

He laughs again and heads for the exiting doors. She was glad he didn't try anything. Had he not have a change of heart, she'd probably still talk to him. It's become how her world revolves. She always associates with the enemies.

Desmond Tutu once said: _Without forgiveness_,_ there's no future_.

So she'd have to forgive him eventually.

No matter how much it'd hurt.

**X**

"Excuse me? Do I even _know _you?"

Steven shrugs at Claire. She and her peers sit on the Met Steps. Recruiting for more bees was soon. A line of nervous girls would appear to the Constance anarchy, plead to why'd they want to become one of Claire's projects, and wait for Claire to make her suspenseful decision. Girls will cry for days.

It's a bonus for him. It was how he'd scored his dates.

He bids her a shrug and scuffs his red Vans on a step. "Technically, you do. I've been to your house. Not in a creepy way … but I have. You were there and took something from one of my good friends. You may know him. De –"

"Never met him!" she interrupts and lowers her voice cautiously, disregarding the stares she receives from her clique. Matthew must've told him. He was more UES than she thought. "Anyway, _Steven_, you're in our way. Do you think you can go?"

Steven blinks and grins. She knew his name. That was more of an achievement than graduation. "Because, I know sorority initiation is so finer than I am. What ya gonna do? Chop off their extensions? Make-out with their bros? Threaten them with fake sex-tapes?"

"Ooh, good ideas!" a minion praises him and jots the concepts furiously in a notepad.

"First of all, we're not a sorority. We're a clique." Claire corrects and her mouth slits in a scowl. He crosses his arm and his smile broadens. "Secondly, these things are none of your business. Don't you have something better to do?"

He shrugs again, which makes her want to hurt him. The carelessness in him is mortifying. "I do. But I'm choosing to stay here. Smoking isn't as fun as it used to be."

"Oh, poor you," She mock-pouts and a girl hands her a folder. She could see the underclassmen behind Steven's shoulders. He peers over them and sees the crowding girls in a line. This would be good.

Some laughter breaks free from him. The girls blink and shuffle awkwardly. He returns to Claire and slings his backpack on his shoulders. "Okay, I got the drift. I'll be leaving."

Claire sighs in relief and he winks at the underclassmen, doing the phone-gesture. "Remember, girls, if it doesn't work out. Call me."

He heads back to school and murmurs of _hot _resonate in the back. She can only hope they won't call him.

"Up first, Baby Collins," one of her minions announces.

A tiny girl approaches with a grin. Claire gives her a glare and points her chin. She could already tell this girl would need a transformation to fit in.

It wouldn't take long.

_We all know nothing ever lasts in her world_.

**X**

Tinsley enters Music Room 1 of St. Jude's. The room is abandoned with the exception of Matt, who has discarded his blazer and tie. The sleeves of his shirt are cuffed to his elbows and his face is sweaty. His guitar is in his lap and he's practices along to Green Day's 'East Jesus Nowhere.'

She can't help but be envious of his talent. If she didn't know him, she'd be able to mistake him for an actual professional. It made her jealous in more ways than one.

"You've gotten better." He meets her gaze and smirks cleverly, pausing his song and voice. "You make me feel like a slacker. I always see you with a guitar."

Matt shakes his head in denial. "That's not entirely true. This is the first time I've gotten my guitar back since my vapid performance in Rodney's. I'm not much of a performer."

A frown overtakes her and she steps in. "I wouldn't say that. You're great. The times I've seen you perform blew my mind."

"One opinion doesn't make me David Lee Roth." She has no idea what this means and he seems to discover this in her dumbfounded silence. "I've never been a star. I'm lucky for what I have. I'd rather be nothing than famous."

She leans on a guitar rack and shakes her head. "Why would you say that? You're completely a star in my eyes. Don't you see? Just look at yourself."

"I don't like looking at myself."

"Well, look _inside _yourself. You're a performer in our view. Everyone loves you." She heaves a deep breath and considers her next words. "Never degrade yourself. It hurts to learn the hard way."

His expression lightens in a gentle smirk. "Thanks. Let's do this more often. I really need a weekly therapist."

"I bet you do." She winks with a kindly air to herself, fingers unconsciously twirling the pleats of her skirt. "Especially since you write _tons_ of songs about running away,"

"You'd be surprised at how much credit it makes." He strums a little rendition of mixed notes and notices her fidgeting but doesn't offer a word about it. "Just why are you here?"

Her heart skips a tentative beat. She knows he probably means nothing offensive or rude. It's just that since her and Harper's relationship, she needed someone to talk to and had no one. Bryn's been busy with Kenny, Claire is always stuck with her clique, and she doesn't really have any close friends other than him.

Their friendship isn't as powerful as it'd been before. Large parts of her regret kissing him. She would take it back if she could. It was impossible for that and it expanded her guilt.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes sincerely. His shoulders hunch and he breathes something between a sigh and a snort. "I just needed someone to talk to."

What he does next surprises her. He isn't exactly an open book. If he had the opportunity, he'd probably keep to himself for the rest of his life. He's never really been social. He's brooding, opinionated, and complicated.

But one of the greatest friends that anyone could have.

He pats the empty seat next to him and rearranges the guitar in his arms. "Just don't talk about the Kardashians. I don't go to _that _length."

She laughs and nods to him. "I'll do my best. Is Taylor Lautner a no, too?"

His laugh is friendly and it makes her feel warm. "Not if you're comparing him to me."

**X**

Harper scores the first goal of their practice game. His team cheers and the others curse and kick the dirt. Not meaning to be smug, he returns to his bench with a specific air to his walk and sees Bryn waving to him with a lunch tin. Something he couldn't quite identify in her eyes.

He sits beside her and removes his helmet and mouthpiece. "Something up? You never come to see me."

"I _know_. Aren't I such a bad sister?" she demands and he steals the tub of food from her and notices the warmness seeping through his gloves. He uncaps the tub and the aromas of creamy rice, baked vegetables, and Parmesan cheese greet him. His eyes indicate gratitude. "You took forever to come home yesterday. I ordered out and those are leftovers. Is that cool?"

He wolfs down a dollop of rice. "Bribery is the key." Harper doesn't speak as he's devouring his lunch and licking the spoon clean. As his eyes return to hers, he notices her gaze avoid him and focus on the dirt. Even for her, it's weird. And that's saying a lot.

Harper shoves her arm blithely. "Bryn, really, what happened? Not looking at me is affecting my suspicions of you. More than usual. So come on. What's wrong?"

She laughs, the humor dead in her. "Knowing you're suspicious of me burns my soul."

He just _looks _at her and raises his eyebrows. "Coming to my lacrosse practice isn't exactly a casual thing for you."

"Sorry 'bout that. I get very lazy to enter the field of lacrosstitutes and Playboy magazines." She can't help but laugh at his stern face. She decides to come clean, anyway. "Boyfriend troubles, Harper. I haven't had a decent one in a million centuries. It's weird, okay? I'm not used to _any _of this."

"Me neither. Don't give me that look, I'm being honest." She looks elsewhere to hide her smile at picturing her brother having relationship issues. Saying he had relationship issues was like Gene Simmons admitting he hated publicity. "Relationships aren't easy, you know that. Give it time and Kenny will probably come around sooner or later."

"Sooner would be nice. I hate waiting,"

"This is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time."

Bryn's look is immediately appalled. "You got that from Fight Club!" They laugh together and she punches his arm, her words caught between giggles. "That's so fucking cheesy!"

Harper shakes his head. "No matter what you say Fight Club is a good movie."

"It's definitely Brad Pitt's worst movie." she declares with a smirk.

"You'd say that because you hate him," Harper retorts and dodges her next hit. "It's the only movie I like that he's in, anyway. He's not the best."

Bryn raises herself to the skies and swears: "Finally! Something we can _almost _agree on!"

At least, her terrible mood was killed. "Almost,"

"Yo, Harper!"

Two lacrosse guys arrive at their side. They must be new because she's never seen them and it's exactly what she likes. Newbies to corrupt.

One of the boys, his red hair cut close to his forehead in an uneven Mohawk, wiggles his eyebrows and grins. Underclassmen, no doubt. "No wonder you're distracted, Harper. This chick is _fine!_"

She saw Harper's face procure an aura of sibling-protectiveness, his gloved fists clamping. "Watch it, Maks."

"No, it's cool, bro." Bryn smirks between Maks and the other boy, their skin flushes and they gulp innocently. "I always did love new guys. I'm sure I can distract you, Maks. Unless, you don't find _this_ –" She crosses her legs and moves her skirt to reveal her stockings. "Wrong."

Maks's breathing stops and she can hear Harper exhale. "On the field, boys," They linger momentarily and continue to goggle at Bryn. "On the field _or _be benched for the next game."

They scamper off with a farewell to Bryn and her smirk falls when she sees Harper. "What? I can't have a little fun?"

"Not with the freshmen. They'll be pestering me for weeks, trust me." He grabs his helmet and mouthguard. "And try not to seduce anymore of my teammates, okay? I'd really hate to break their noses."

The sparkle in her eye isn't promising. "I'll do my best."

**X**

She allows the trainees a five-minute break for Starbucks. Claire's been on fire since she's chosen her Top 5 candidates. Usually, she'd simply be the nicer girl and give the new girls ten-minutes but since Dean broke everything off with her. She isn't mildly close to nice.

Well, she hasn't been for years, so …

"Have you clocked them?" she demands of one of her minions. The girl nods nervously and indicates the little timer on her iPhone. "That better be five-minutes _exactly_."

"Isn't someone just terrible today?"

Javier is in her field of sight. She doesn't even jump. She's become used to him showing up at random. Maybe if he'd not brought on that smarmy vibe, she'd be more pleasant.

"Oh, perfectly terrible!" she chirps and his smile becomes forced, the look in his eyes is inquiring. She wouldn't tell him. It's none of his business. "Why are you here, anyway? I'm not training Elle to be one of mine and I'm pretty sure Bryn couldn't care about you."

He touches his chest in mock-agony. "God, Claire. That hurts. What used to be my heart has fallen out with Dean's …"

She was gonna kill someone. "Please just shut up." She directs her minions off and wonders if those five-minutes have finished. She would rather get back to the freshmen before having to deal with another guy that knows her secret. "Who told you?"

"A little birdie," It isn't liable enough and it overflows her fury. "You're having another one of your balls soon, according to your monarchy of Constance. Or is that just another bad rumor?"

"It's probably the only thing true." Her voice is sly and stiff. She can tell her minions are already working to spread rumors. She doesn't care all just yet. "Are you coming? Because your girlfriend can't. The rule at the door is 'No L'Ecole sluts allowed.'"

Javier's face isn't the slightest amused. "Isn't that spiteful? Bryn's newbie boyfriend can come and my girlfriend can't? I sense a deep case of jealously."

Her chin tilts to him and she knows she can't just collapse into his words. "Believe it or not, Kenny is entirely against the UES and all of my peer events. It's why he isn't in today. A little birdie told me that her boyfriend has been so upset since a certain event, he refuses to come to anything with her now. One less Brooklynite is better for me."

"I bet it is. Only you can find the satisfaction of someone's misery."

"So I expect you'll be coming?"

"Definitely."

**X**

_July_, _1992_

A man, just about nineteen, stands outside The Roxy. His blonde hair has a natural spikiness and his eyes are a gratified gray-blue, he wears a plaid shirt with Levi 501s and dirty Chuck Taylors. The lights above him are golden and he can hear a crowd of clubbers screaming the lyrics to a David Bowie track.

He leans against the wall and digs in his pockets for a cigarette. This night hadn't been what he expected. He'd hoped to enjoy his night in his favorite club, party with his friends before August came, and head home to see his girl. It'd make him happy. However, his stupid ex-friends ruined his night with name-callings and rude words. They'd criticized him and he's been taught not to fight. He couldn't do anything and wouldn't risk getting arrested.

A cigarette comes to his mouth and he lights it with a Zippo. He blows smoke in the nighttime air and raises his face to heave a sigh of disappointment. Maybe he'd head back home after a smoke. His girl would know what to say.

He shuts his eyes and reclines with his cigarette.

"Oh, baby! She's fine!"

"Speaking of babies …"

"You sure that ain't mine, pretty girl?"

His eyes are still shut. Those catcalling drunks would get nowhere.

Stomping boots approach him. He's about to tell whomever to _fuck off _before he hears their voice. "Are you okay, Nick?"

His eyes meet a familiar someone. Her russet hair in a disheveled twist and red lipstick on her inquisitive pout, she's clad in a babydoll dress and pretty Mary-Janes. Her stomach is the most visible thing about her, having the appearance of a pumpkin jutting from in her.

She's silent and glares at his cigarette in disdain. He realizes her gaze and stubs it. "Lori, is something wrong? You can't be here. You're –"

"Almost nine-months, I know. No need to rub it in." She can see the humiliation and worry in his eyes. It bothers her and she holds her belly. "You didn't answer me, Nick. Are _you _okay?"

There wasn't much use lying to her. She could see through his dishonesties easily. "I've just been bothered." He notices the stupid drunks and wonders if they were hitting on her. His anger builds. "Wesley, you know, he's so critical and rude and it's nothing important. I just can't fight him. I can't risk anything and especially with the baby," He points to her stomach and she scowls. She hated when he used her pregnancy as a ploy. "I just can't, babe."

Her gaze moves to the guys. "Which one's Wesley?"

He couldn't answer her. She'd do something.

One of the guys shouts Wesley's name and she holds a forefinger to him. "Be right back." She struts to the idiots before he can catch her. He fights through the partygoers and clubbers to save her.

"Excuse me," She taps Wesley's shoulder and he turns to face her, scrawny arms dangling. "My name is Lorena Stradlin and what you've said about my boyfriend is not okay with me."

Nick hurries to her and grabs Lorena. "Let it go, Lori."

Wesley laughs obnoxiously over their posture. "So Nicky, ya got your bitch to fight your battles, too?"

His hands slacken on her shoulder and clench into fists. Lorena's face is cold and still.

"You're such a hotshot. Trust me, that won't work on me." She crosses her arms and steadies her shoulders. "I'd watch it, considering my connections."

"I think it'd be awfully nice for us to connect. Make you believe Nicky's baby's mine."

"The beer on your breath isn't exactly a turn-on."

_Let him say one more word_, _one more word_.

Wesley grins and offers Lorena a cigarette. "Makes it hard to resist me, huh? Look at 'cha. You're a harmless, knocked-up bitch. Wanna a cigarette? Because it looks like ya need one."

Wesley slams into the sidewalk.

But it wasn't by his fist.

Lorena moans in pain and points in the distance. "Get outta here! Now!" Wesley scrambles to his feet and curbs the block. Oblivious drunks cheer for her and return into the club. His eyes are wide and he exhales, a brief laugh escaping him.

She cradles her wrist and returns to Nick with a sense of confidence. "That's how you do it."

**X**

_January_, _2012_

"Well, Lorena. You look … nice."

Blame him for being startled. It's a rare sight to see Lorena looking decent and without a sour-grapes expression or her filthiest boots. Her hair is drawn in a bun with a variety of pins, a slash of eyeliner on the rims of her lashes, and she wears a teal blouse, dress pants, and platform-wedges.

"Apparently, you need an appointment to come see you. It's unbelievable how famous they consider you." She nods blankly at his smile and narrows her eyes, nearing his desk. "I've never thought I'd need to use the term of your wife, Nick."

He shuffles his paperwork into a folder and plants an elbow on his desk. "Aw, that hurts my feelings, Lori. Being my wife isn't that horrible."

"Yes, that's why we're divorced." She smiles something bitter and slams a palm on his desk, close to his elbow and rattling a coffee mug. Nick doesn't react as he'd once do. He meets her glare with a smile. After their marriage, he came to expect this from her. It was more amusing than anything.

"I don't usually come to chat," she says and retracts her hand from his desk. "Matt was wondering if you could come to his hotshot performance in about a week. I don't know the full details yet but I'll get them to you soon. I just need a yes or no now."

Nick raises an eyebrow. "Is there a reason he couldn't come tell me himself?"

She shrugs. It's an excuse. She knows fully-why Matthew doesn't like to come see him. "You'll have to ask him yourself. He's a very defensive kid, Nick. It's not something I have control of."

"Then consider it a maybe until he's here." He can tell Lorena is upset with his answer and doesn't contemplate anything else before her glare is firm.

"It's a yes or no situation. I'm on the clock and I don't have time to go back and forth with you." He can't believe it's taken this long to notice the walkie-talkie on her belt. She'd usually bring her gun, too.

"I'll call Matt later and if he doesn't answer … that's it." Nick scowls and she can see their son in it. Other than the long fingers and smart responses, it was probably their only similarity.

The small secretary that gave her a hard time, barges in without introduction. "Sorry for interrupting, Mr. Lösenberg. But the board-members have arrived." She glares at Lorena and lingers in the doorpost.

Nick assesses their deal in a sigh. "I wouldn't, Delilah. She could have you arrested."

She nods and gives Delilah her scariest grin. "I know how to use a gun, too."

Delilah flees the room with a click of Louboutins and Lorena turns on her walkie-talkie, he notices a new tattoo on her fingers: _Rock Steady_. "No Doubt reference, huh?"

Her smile is light. It reminds him of what they once had. "You're the first to get it." She leans to speak into the monitor. "Come in, Charlie. Are we good? Are we good?"

_We_'_re good_,_ Lorena_.

"I guess I have to go now," She points at Nick. "Watch it with Matt, okay? I know where you live."

She retreats for the door and her hand goes for the doorknob. He stands before she can leave. "Lorena, wait."

The question exits him before his rational mind can stop it. "Why did we ever divorce again?"

"Take a look at yourself first," Her responding smile is terrible. "or better yet, take a look at Matt and _you_ tell _me_ why he hates you."

The door slams.

He collapses back in his chair. Even after all this time, she can still do this to him.

**X**

Steven sheds his blazer to show-off his school shirt drenched in sweat. "I think I'm sweatin' a little." He laughs and climbs off and over his drums, his Vans squeaking on the tiles. Matt grabs his Android, types something in, and returns the rental guitar onto a rack. "What's with the silence, dude? Did I fail 'Seven Nation Army' or somethin'?"

"Lösenberg is calling me again." Matt displays a list of missed calls from whom. "He never calls me and finally does now? This dude is so fucking two-faced."

"Come on, man. Just answer," He regrets his words at the betrayal on Matt's face. "I know, I know. You never know when it's important."

Matt's face is dark. He can hardly recognize his best friend when he's like this. "So was my mother when she was in the hospital. He never fucking came to see her."

"That was way before you were aware of it, though." Steven interjects and Matt's expression isn't changing. "You were _six_, Matt. I know what it's like to not have parents. You shouldn't just drop an opportunity like this."

"My mother is all I need for family. She's been to most of my performances, knows you and Bryn, and is actually cool with my career-choice. Do I need to go further?"

"You'll regret this one day, man."

"I bet I will … someday."

"It sucks when you're technically still a Lösenberg."

"I'm not getting into this now," He indicates to their instruments and pockets his phone. "We have a performance to prepare for in Claire's place around actual rich people. My mind is set." His phone rings again and he silences it. "Let's do Foo Fighters' 'Bridge Burning.' Come on."

Steven reluctantly grabs his drumsticks and counts off the next song. He wants to help Matt. He really does. Matt won't budge today and maybe not soon, it makes him wish he could do something. The full story of Matt's life was tough, so he'd back-off for now.

Matt's pace with the guitar is awkward and weird. Probably his is, too. He isn't paying mind.

They're both playing the wrong song.

On both sides of reality.

**X**

**This ending came out better than I was expecting. I'm proud with it despite the length. I'll work on making a longer next chapter. Just prepare yourselves for the drama that's to come. I have to finish the remainders of my homework and ****_pray _****that'll I'll finish my essay early. **


	23. Chapter 23

"You smashed your Fender into my drums! That could've killed me, man!" Steven laughs as he and Matt are leaving St. Jude's. They've been practicing late and the sky has already become the appealing color of a peach's orange, clouds like surfboards dance through the sky and rumble with the noises of thunder.

They'd be performing soon and the jam-session was much needed for them. Matt spent his time learning new Sonic Youth tracks and singing wrong lyrics. He hasn't been himself since Steven brought his personal issues to light. Never has he liked talking about his father. For all he cares, the old man could go stick it.

They've never really had a relationship anyway.

His answer is delayed. Mostly because his mind isn't where it should be. "I wanted to do a Cobain-stunt. Remember when he threw his guitar into Dave's drums on SNL? I got inspired off that."

Steven jokingly punches his arm. "Yeah, you couldn't fill me in first? I just managed to avoid a cymbal to the face."

"Sorry," he apologizes with little sincerity. His gaze skims the length of the courtyard for something strange. He'd become used to seeing the unusual. "I'll buy lunch this time. How about Tacos Matamoros? I've been craving guacamole for hours."

"If you're buying I'm _so_ ordering my lifetime in enchiladas and nachos." They share the first real laugh all day. "Who knew a million black-eyes would pay off? I might just go into shock."

Matt smiles and it's easy to notice how it doesn't match his face. "Do your best not to. My phone's dying and I doubt it'll be able to save you."

"What's it supposed to do? Revive me?" Steven's smile is bright like a candlelit awning. "We're both dying so it'll be no use."

"That's such a dumbass answer," Matt's smile is a slight more real and he searches his jacket for a cigarette and his Zippo. "that's like what came first. The chicken or the egg?"

"Definitely the chicken, though. How else can an egg be produced?"

"The chicken had to hatch from something. What makes you think the chicken got there first?"

"For all you know, the chicken could've came in a UFO and been like: 'Yo, it's better here than on Mars.' and he coulda just chilled and lay some eggs that eventually just came to be food for the dinosaurs and cavemen."

More laughs break from Matt's mouth and he discovers a cigarette in his back pocket, grasping it in his fingers. "You're lucky we're friends because if you told anyone else that they'd – oh … shit."

Steven stops laughing at the horror on Matt's face and follows his eyes. Straight ahead is who they've been trying to avoid for years. He can recognize Matt in him and hoped to not have to see him for a long time since that horrible recital back in 2008 before he knew who this bastard was.

Perfect blonde hair, perfect blue eyes, perfect _everything_.

It was always how Matt described him.

And, he can fully see it now. He's _too _perfect.

He leans into Matt's shoulders as a friend is supposed to do. "Wanna run on the count of three?"

The cigarette is clenched in Matt's fist and he can only shake his head mindlessly. "No … no, it's fine. Just wait for me at the gate and we'll run if he bothers me."

Steven reluctantly leaves with looks to his best friend and his father. He doesn't even look at him. No one ever really does.

Matt's face is unfriendly when he comes to Nick. "What the hell do you want?"

"I really needed to talk to you." He ignores the swearword in his son's sentence for this moment. "You've been ignoring my calls for months now. This isn't normal for you."

"I never thought I'd really needed to check in with you," he sneers, his expression is threatening like a wildcat. "seeing as you never decided to do this until now. What is it you want?"

Nick takes a good step to Matt. "I just want to talk with you. Just listen –"

"Because that's exactly what you've done for me all these years? Save it." He roughly smashes a shoulder into Nick's and makes him stumble back. "I've got much better things to do."

He grabs Matt's arm and it hurts to realize he isn't even looking at him. "Just hear me out, Matthew. I don't want us to be nothing. Please just for this once."

Matt jerks his arm from him. "How long did it take you to figure this out? We've been nothing for years. I doubt one talk could change things." He backs away and closer to the gates and his friend. "What you've said to me hasn't ever mattered. And now that I'm here, I've grownup. It's surprising but I have and since I did, I want you to stay away from me forever."

Nothing could leave him. Not even Nick had anything else to say.

Just like that, it was 2000 again and he was meeting Lorena in his workplace and she was announcing their divorce. _There_'_s nothing that can fix us_._ Divorces are forever_.

He blinks and his jaw loosens in shock. "Forever is a long time."

Matt hurries for an exit. "You bet it is …"

Snippets of Nick's past enter him when he watches his son leave him. Remembers what it felt like to be alone and wishes he could've been intelligent enough to stop it before his life succumbed to this. Succumbed to what he's always tried to fight and never could.

Steven follows Matt's pace and eventually matches it. "How about I buy this time?" Matt's eyes are distant and cloudy, he isn't speaking or even nodding. "I think I may just

"Okay," Matt agrees in a little voice and he doesn't say anything else until they're in Brooklyn.

**x**

Harper glares at the toaster with eyes blurry with sleep. He could see his wheat toast cooking and was cursing at how long it was taking. This was 2012. Couldn't there be like a digital toaster that fries food in a span of seconds? Where was Bill Gates when you needed _that_?

He sighs and peers inside the toaster. The ticking of the timer was giving him a headache. Maybe Bryn knew what to do. She was better at using the microwave oven than him.

His eyes fall on the buttons and knobs. Did one speed the process? It had to, right?

Harper hesitantly glares at _reheat_. Maybe that would. He clicks it and waits, drumming his fingers on the countertop and humming something he's heard Bryn sing once.

"I wouldn't have done that." He jumps at seeing Tinsley enter his kitchen. She's wearing one of his old soccer jerseys and long argyle socks, her hair is all tousled and it makes him lust for her. "Your toast will be burnt now."

"No?" Two charred slices of toast appear. "Dammit. I've been burning bread more than eating it. This is why Bryn and I order-out. Seriously, this is getting depressing."

Tinsley breaks the distance between them and removes the slices from the toaster, plopping them on the counter. "You can always just scrape the burnt stuff off." she suggests and notices how even the crusts were overcooked. A little laugh escapes her and she shakes her head to cease Harper's disappointment. She goes for the fridge and opens it to investigate. Not much was in there except for a pizza box and a half-empty quart of milk. "Relax. Will I have to teach you guys to cook? This is getting sad."

"You can teach me," he compromises and swings his arms around her, bringing her in and raising an eyebrow. "I think I could learn much more from you."

She reaches for the buttons on his shirt. "I'm _really _good in the kitchen."

"I bet you are." And his mouth meets hers. She snatches a strawberry and gives it to him, kissing him again and tasting the sweetness of his tongue and the berry. He tastes whipped cream and returns for her to interact. Their exchanges continue for long with all sorts of delicacies. Caramel, chocolate sauce, more strawberries, and more kisses.

Ten minutes later, they're lying on the tiles and back in their clothes. Tinsley sighs dreamily and meets his eyes, careful to not impact with his bad knee. "This is the best breakfast I've had in a long time."

"It's not really breakfast, though." He checks the clock on the microwave. "It's more … brunch."

She laughs and leans into him. "Even better."

"Christ, Kenny! Right there! Right _there_! Woo, yeah!"

She can feel Harper cringe at the pounding of the bedframe and his sister's screaming. It makes her glad Tyler isn't old enough to know anything.

"I didn't even know Kenny was here," he mumbles and doesn't move as the sexual screams continue. "Do you mind going to check? I don't really trust my virgin eyes to seeing what's going on … upstairs."

"Yes, Kenny! _Yes_. Oh, don't stop! Just don't stop at all! Goddamn yes!"

Tinsley stands and leaves for the stairs, she can see Harper shake his head and mumble, "I really hope she doesn't break anything."

While she ascends the stairs cautiously, the moans and the thumps on the bedframe increase. She hesitates to go back down but reaches Bryn's room first, her hand meets the doorknob and she enters nervously. Having shut her eyes as Bryn's screams are suddenly paused like they'd never existed.

She sees a fully-dressed Bryn on her bed and Kenny on the windowsill with his Treo. Not even disarranged or anything but just doing little things: she, reading _Love_, _Lust_ & _Faking It_, he, just typing hastily. Kenny meets her confused eyes before Bryn and smiles cordially.

"Hello, Tinsley," he greets and his smile becomes teasing. "I'm sure you fared well downstairs."

Her face engulfs in fire and she sheepishly looks away as Bryn and Kenny share laughter. It was more embarrassing someone heard their mischief than anything. Especially someone she barely knew.

"If anything, you two shouldn't be talking," she retorts to receive a disoriented look from Kenny and a smirk from Bryn.

Kenny blinks and broadens her uncertainty. "I don't follow."

Bryn laughs to her own humor and Kenny raises an eyebrow, withdrawing his phone from his sight. "Uh, Tins … he wasn't exactly here to witness the blunt of my actions until now."

This time Tinsley is blinking. She wasn't _that _unaware. "How did you get up here, then?"

He points outside Bryn's window and just shrugs like it's a casual thing. She can see why she and Kenny are dating in this circumstance. "I went to the front but you and Harper appeared to be quite busy. I didn't want to interrupt –" He laughs gently and raises his voice over Bryn's giggles. "or see anything I shouldn't have. I merely climbed in from outside, it's not like I broke anything."

"You almost broke your leg." Bryn clarifies and folds the page of her book before closing it. "Don't think I saw that slip-up, Ciccone. It scared the shit out of me."

"Forgive me for attempting something from Twilight," He fakes a pout and narrows his eyes affectedly. "I only wanted to make my girl smile."

Bryn rolls her eyes but Tinsley instantly buys into his compliment. "Aw, that's so cute!"

Kenny smiles appreciatively and gestures Tinsley to Bryn. "See? Why can't you be more like her?"

"I can procure so many answers to that," she says modestly and Tinsley laughs from her distance in the door. "I'll just stick with silence for today."

"Bryn Blackwell being silent? It must be my lucky day." They match one another's bitter smirks and she raises an eyebrow to him suggestively. "I'm sure you won't be silent for much longer."

Tinsley returns to the door. She'd rather not have to witness a second round of moaning. "And, that's my cue to leave."

"G'day, Tinsley,"

"Later."

Bryn goes over to him and when Tinsley's already gone, she looks him over and strokes his cheek. "You're damn good at scaring my friends away, aren't you? No wonder I've kept you this long."

"Ah, yes. Your morbid British boyfriend has become an arse, I'm sure that makes you happy." He tugs her nearer and sighs with a little too much exaggeration, leaving his phone beside his thigh. "If only it did for anyone else."

She laughs. "Just shut up and kiss me."

He does. It lasts for so long and she settles into his lap while it does. Moments later, she feels a vibration and she sees his Treo blinking with a new text message. Before she could see further, he grabs his phone and hides it from her eyes. The grip she had around his neck was suddenly limp as he reads the message.

"Bloody hell," he swears and ushers her off furiously, chary to make sure her feet are firmly planted on the floor. "Something's come up, Bryn. I'm so sorry." It was bad they couldn't even be together at the big performance but now they couldn't even kiss? "Can we finish this another day?"

And she thought she had commitment problems.

Her blank mind can only allow her an okay. He opens the window and something mature twists inside her. It was the first for something she hasn't had in years.

"The door, Kenny. Please just take the door."

**x**

"Look at them," Claire's favorite minion, Sarah, points out Baby and the other candidates sipping their vanilla lattes innocently. "They're losers in desperate need of mud facials. Maybe it'd be able to rid those awful acne scars on Natasha's face."

Another one of her minions, Jacqueline, acknowledges them in disgust. "Please. Did you see Zoë's so-called beauty mark? It looked like a monster just ate her face!"

"Oh, please! It was undoubtedly a mole or a blemish from a botched facial reconstruction." Sarah claims with the bluntness in her smile thickening. "I'm sure even that Jesus chick could do better."

Claire's eyes narrow at the thought of Winnie. The religion-obsessed girl was at the last of her thoughts. She'd much rather have to beg for Dean's forgiveness than interact with _her _again.

Since neither were liable options, she jotted down the names of the final three in her notebook and handed it to Jacqueline. She had to make the brainless idiot useful.

"Go announce it now." Claire instructs and has to refrain from nibbling her lip, which was always her strange nervous quirk. She shouldn't be flustered if she's to be their queen and a proper ruler.

_More like_ _dictator_.

Jacqueline leaves the steps without further questioning. She'd come to learn when Claire had her occasional foul spells. No one would risk talking back to her … unless, they preferred to be socially exiled from their world of UES events and lengthy schooldays.

Claire watches her deliver the news. Some of the girls sniffle and flee the premises with hunched shoulders, others burst into tears and run off. It would come to be a bonus to Steven later on.

Baby clasps Natasha in a gleeful hug, jumping around like a hyperactive child. It reminded her of what she once was and she has to turn away.

Sarah's eyes are like hers when she meets them. "You chose Natasha? You're probably feeling awfully generous, Clarissa."

"I believe no one asked for your opinion," Claire snarls and turns back to watch Baby. It was better than dealing with the minion's incompetence. "And, if I were you, I'd watch it. Your space can easily be filled by someone else."

This quiets her but only temporarily. She'd definitely have more to deal with later.

No one would get their jobs done if she didn't exist.

She smiles and snatches Jacqueline's latte from her fingers, glaring when she asks for it back.

It was pretty fun being a dictator.

**x**

_Spotted_:_ Rocker B flying solo to her favorite vintage shop for a party dress of her own style_. _Remember_, _Rocker B_, _they may look but they can never touch_.

"You're late again." Elle clarifies when Javier enters her apartment after viewing a gossip blast of Bryn entering a vintage boutique. Not that he cared for her whereabouts. The gossip blasts were always revolving off her or Kenny these days and considering them the 'modern-day Gwen & Gavin.'

It was pretty lame if you ask him. He was glad they didn't do anything to say how he was with Elle.

"I've been more than busy in the recent weeks." he explains to her angered dismay. "School, endless college applications, my life in general. Not everyone has an easy life like you."

Elle's mouth twists in contempt. It's one of the faces she makes at him often. Other than the intense relationship they portray, she hasn't really become too close to him.

He was beginning to wonder if Kenny and Bryn had a better relationship than him.

"My life is not the slightest easy," she snaps and raps her sensible heels on the carpet. "I have no reason to be explaining anything to you. Be ready next time because I won't always be around like my brother's so-called girlfriend."

He knows she's talking about Bryn and something in him bursts into flames of rage. "It seems like they have more of a relationship than we do."

"I'd say so," She nods and her smile is the mirroring of her appearance. "I doubt it's exactly anything. Kenneth doesn't really open up to anyone but you may think whatever you like."

Javier tucks a hand in his pocket and scowls. "He'll have to open up to Bryn eventually. They're obviously dating and there's nothing even you can do to stop it."

Elle takes her coat and slides it on. She doesn't bother to fasten her belt or fix the mismatched pearl buttons as she saunters for the door. "Disagree if you must. My bets definitely believe that they won't last longer than March." She takes her keys with a certain force of authority that says the truth. "Why don't you make your own? I'm pretty sure yours may be able to outmatch mine."

He's about to say something but he remembers Bryn's sobbing over Kenny, the proclamations of betrayal she spoke of, how relieved she was when he apologized to her. It makes him not want to hurt her and not do anything to ruin her relationship.

No matter how much he hates it.

"Ending my friend's relationship isn't exactly on my schedule." He cocks an eyebrow to her and mildly enjoys the shock that crosses her face. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. "Enjoy your party."

And when she's down on the street and further from Javier, she retrieves her phone and presses #_3 _on her speed-dial. She's sent to voicemail and smiles when she hears the familiarity of a special someone.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Lombardi," she speaks with a rare cheeriness. "I have quite the case for you. I'd like you to investigate Bryn Blackwell, the businessman's daughter. There's a lot about her I don't know and I'd earnestly prefer to find out."

Her eyes are dark and glassy when she comes to finish. "Do not limit yourself. It'd be better to have _all _her information."

**x**

"You have a lot of games my sister and I have." Harper instructs to Tyler as he observes his shelf of Xbox games. He pulls one of the cases from the shelf and reads it. "You have Halo: Reach? Aren't you too young for this game?" He only knows because when Halo 3 came out, he was banned by his dad from getting it because of its rating.

Tyler laughs a little. "Tinsley never said anything."

Harper returns it to the shelf and smiles covertly. "Tinsley never said anything or Tinsley doesn't know?"

He shrugs and it reminds him a lot of Bryn when he asks if she's the culprit of her so-called trouble. "I think both," Tyler skims the games and snatches the case of a familiar game from it. "Do you have this one?"

Harper reads the title and grins. "Red Dead Redemption? Yes. And it's yet another game you're not allowed to play." He squints and rechecks the shelves. "Is there an actual teen-friendly game that you _do _have?"

Tyler points to another case. "Call of Duty: Black Ops?"

Harper gets it and returns Red Dead Redemption. "Okay, I have this. This is probably one of the only games that lets you turn down the blood." Not that he wanted to be a buzzkill, he'd rather Tyler be safe and normal when Tinsley got back from her internship. He doubted she'd be happy if her little brother had become a male clone of Bryn.

His responding pout is more comical than anything. "Ugh. You're no fun."

"Go put the game in," Harper commands and hands him the disc. "and, if you're nice, I'll let you play Halo: Reach after."

Tyler leaves without further complaint. Harper waits by the window and looks out. His phone chimes the bars of 'Circus' – the ringtone Bryn personalized for Claire. He knew the Britney Spears playlist he watched in the Hamptons would return to haunt him.

"What's up, Claire?" he answers to hear a ruckus of hammering and loud people. "Where are you?"

_My god_,_ Harper_!_ You have to get here now_!_ It_'_s an emergency_!

He slowly leans against the wall. "Why? What's happened?" He was well-overused to Claire's theatrics.

_There_'_s a psycho killer outside our favorite club_, _Rodney_'_s_! _I_'_m really freaking out and OMG_, _Bryn just went out to go meet him_! _Is she trying to seduce him_? _He has a knife_, _AHH_ –

The line fades and he exhales deeply. "Tyler, change of plans!"

These are the few days he wished he was an only child.

**x**

"Rum and coke."

Bryn sat on a stool, waiting for Matt's performance. She crossed her fishnet-clad legs as she played with her straw. Her cell phone laid on the bar top, her screensaver of Floria, Matt, Steven, and her hanging out in Central Park for one of those free rock concerts. She was just waiting for that "**ONE NEW MESSAGE**" to pop up on her screen.

"Drinking alone, are we?"

She turned her head to see Javier taking a seat next to her. The blonde raised his hand, letting the bartender know he wanted his regular. Even at Rodney's, Javier still had power over the rebellious people that flooded the floor, they wouldn't admit it but they knew who he was. They wished that it was them he was pining over, but that position belonged to a certain brunette with a taste of classic rock.

"You know it's pretty fucking creepy how you just show up out of nowhere." Bryn grinned, sipping her drink. "What do you have like a GPS pin on me or something?"

"Gossip Girl's already beat me to it." Javier flashed his phone where a map of Manhattan sat. On it, small pictures of them were hovering over the block of Rodney's.

"It's funny how I've seen more of you in the past two days than my boyfriend in the past week." Bryn confessed, staring at him. He chuckled, his eyes resembling emeralds in the dark lighting of the bar.

"What's going on between you two?" Javier asked, his hands strumming against the countertop. "If you don't mind my asking."

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Her dark red lips curled up in a smirk. "You'll probably use it in some sick scheme to dethrone Claire as queen bee or something."

"What? After everything we've been through?" Javier smiled. "I'd think we could have a decent conversation. And don't worry I probably have something on Tinsley I can use to dethrone her."

Bryn rolled her eyes, feeling flutters in her stomach. Why was he acting so differently now that they were over? Did them breaking up have something to do with it? Was she the one bringing him down?

Bryn sighed. "It's just that after the whole thing with her-" _Her _referring to his girlfriend. "things just haven't been the same. I don't know it's like he's still hiding things. I just want him to be honest with me. It's not like I'm some prissy bitch that is gonna run away and breakup with him once things get tough. I know how to deal with fucked-up shit, have you seen my family? My father died after overdosing on coke and my mother is a ditz that's married to someone five years older than me."

She couldn't believe that she had just spilt her guts like that, to Javier of all people. She just downed her drink, wanting to run away. She didn't want to be in this situation, she should be saying this to Kenny, not him.

"Actually I have to go." Bryn picked up her red trench coat from the counter and started stomping away as fast as her knee-high boots could carry her. But, she felt a warm hand around hers.

"You shouldn't be embarrassed about those things." Bryn turned around to see Javier, his eyes deep with concern. "I actually think those things are what make you great. The fact that you don't pretend to be someone you aren't. You're just Bryn Blackwell and you don't give a shit what people think. And if Kenny can't appreciate that, you shouldn't be with him."

Bryn stood up on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you. I don't know what it is but you're a different guy now. A better guy."

Javier just stared as she disappeared into the sea of bodies on the dance floor. His cheek tingling from the kiss she planted on his cheek.

**x**

"Your final challenge will be to give me your best gossip," Claire instructs the trainees. Her minions have gone to mingle in Rodney's and the girls are dressed to their perfection. Bad rock music blasts through the speakers and she can see Matthew delivering his equipment backstage. "Nothing cheesy or weak like Hilary Duff had her baby or there's another Kardashian sex-tape out. Real gossip." She looks around the girls. "Any questions?"

Natasha raises her hand nervously and Claire glares at her rudely. "That was a trick. You never ask your leader questions." Claire directs them into the crowds. "Go now!"

They all scurry in different directions and she can't help but notice how Baby lingers. The tiny crystals on her neck glitter in the lights. "I promise I'll do my best, Claire!" she vows with a grin. "I won't disappoint you!"

Again, the girl reminds her of herself. She doesn't say anything and just watches her vanish in the ocean of people. She goes to the bar and orders herself a martini, draining it quickly. She sees Harper enter with Tinsley's little brother and she yells his name, somehow he notices her and comes over.

"What happened? I thought you said there was actual trouble!" Harper shouts idiotically over the music.

"There is!" she defends and directs her hands out to the club and everyone partying inside it. "If you'd only seen the ruckus they've been making! You would think that the outsiders put Valium in their drinks! They're so wild and rude."

Harper shrugs and looks out, Tyler following him. "I'm sure they are," he murmurs and is unheard by both of them. "We're just gonna leave. I don't feel like partying … especially with a minor with me."

"Why don't you just stay for one drink?" she suggests and points out her own glass. "I never really see you out anymore and I bet you could use the relaxation from Tinsley."

"I don't know," Harper holds his knuckles awkwardly. "I'm not much of a drinker."

Claire smiles drily. It's come to be her signature. "I doubt one drink will do you harm."

Tyler glares at her. Despite him being little, he reminds her of a mini Harper. She could only imagine him becoming a lacrosse boy and asking the girls at The Met out.

Harper was always good to breakdown. If you coaxed him enough, he would stay for the entire night and it's exactly what she'd like to see. A drunk-and-disorderly Harper.

She sees him ask Tyler something and he nods casually. Harper's face is less than pleasant.

"Maybe just one drink won't be so bad." Harper concedes and she more than happily orders him a Kamikaze shot.

**x**

It was so long ago but all so terrifying for a six-year old him.

He didn't know much at the time. Just that he wasn't allowed to see his mother. People he didn't know gave him the _oh_,_ you poor thing _gaze and his father would always say she was out of town when the question was escalated. They'd always smile through their tears and use a nice voice with his name and say he'd see his mom someday.

His father stopped coming around. He never wondered why but he liked living with grandma. She made him cookies every Friday and brought him a plastic guitar that he immediately came to adore when he realized what he could do with it. He always tried to mimic what he saw on VH1 Classic but never could outmatch Slash. Mother and Father were still gone. He still didn't ask.

One day in November, Grandma and Father were arguing. They were using bad words and Grandma was crying, she said his mother was dead. She said there's no use of lying to her innocent grandson about her whereabouts. Something deep and powerful stabbed his heart and made him forget about everything and everyone.

He blasted Green Day and cried for hours in the comfort of his room. Grandma made him cookies but he eventually gave them away to the homeless girls on his block when school came around.

Less than two weeks later, Grandma came to him. "Would you like to see your mother, honey?"

He didn't even think to answer.

His mother didn't look the same when they met with her in Central Park. Her face was tired and gaunt, her eyes weirdly empty, and strangest of all, her hands were concealed in tourniquets.

When she hugged him, it wasn't as filling as it once was and her grip was weaker.

"Don't cry, baby. I'm fine." Her throat was hoarse and he sobbed openly in his mother's arms. It had been so long since he's seen her and despite like this, he was glad to know she was alive. "I'm never gonna leave you again."

He'd never found out what happened. His mother returned to work after her break and his father just quit calling altogether. After his mother's accident and the tourniquets were off, he began noticing what the setback had done to her. Her arms were frailer than they'd ever been, she couldn't hear much in her left ear, and she's not able to make entire fists.

When he was fourteen, his mother had been back at work for some time and had gained a variety of tattoos on her hands. After coming home from guitar practice, he noticed a scarring along her hands and asked her what it was. Teenage worry affected him before, still does now.

"It was from long ago. It's okay now." she'd said with a smile.

Somehow, he knew it wasn't.

It still isn't.

A tap on the shoulder comes to alarm him. Floria. "Hey, you okay?"

Matt nods and clumsily grabs his guitar. "Yeah, just daydreaming," The audience from backstage is roaring with their names and peppy teenage energy. "Where's Steven?"

"Preparing his drums, he's gonna count us off soon." Floria's smile is toothy and nice like one of your closest friends. She pretty much was. "Wanna get a drink before we go on? You look real tense, dude."

"I think the energy onstage will be fine for me," They approach the curtains and the volume of adrenaline in the audience increases. "Good luck out there."

Floria nods to him and her grin is larger. "You too," She kisses his cheek and heads into the noise.

**x**

Matt finishes off his first three songs with a _bang _of authority. He's already sweaty and exhausted and his guitar is dangling from his neck like a precious ornament. They stop for a few minutes to take a breather and he sees them all laugh like the best of friends.

Javier watches them for a few minutes before looking away. Bryn should be luckier for what she has. Friends, shoulders to cry on, people to drink with. He'd never had this until now. Bryn's friends talk to him and he barely knows them. Insanity isn't the word.

Since she'd kissed him, he hasn't seen her. Maybe she's partying with her other friends. Even without Kenny, she still rules this circle of punk-rockers.

He can only marvel how she was before. She's a solo ruler of the allegiance of Rodney's.

It was amazing and he'd never realized but she was someone to astonish. Maybe even something more than what he thinks.

This all makes him feel like a cheater.

"Quiet down already," Matt initiates with an adrenaline-infused smirk. "My friend's gonna perform with us tonight and she's gonna rock the stages like she slays Manhattan!" He stops to listen to the catcalls and wolf-whistles of their stage-names. "Where the hell are you, Bryn? You better not be drunk yet! That's Steven's job!"

Floria goes to the end of the stage and helps Bryn up. She's grinning already and stealing Matt's mike. "You're such an ass! I can never relax without you coming to peer-pressure me over here!" The crowd laughs like an animated audience. "I don't really wanna perform, anyway,"

The crowd boos her and Javier can't help to laugh. She also comes to laugh and wipes her forehead. "Peer-pressuring audience, too? That should be illegal."

Steven leans over his drums. "It's not illegal if you like it!"

More laughs. Bryn readjusts her microphone and points Matt off. "Just start 'Lithium.'"

They do.

She's so ecstatic when she's onstage. Unlike any other as she's jumping around, wailing the lyrics of some heavy rock song, and carrying herself as light as a renowned artist. Sweat already glistens on her face and she runs to Matt, singing into his mike as she trades theirs. Her knuckles clamped over his as they meet each other's eyes before she dances away.

Bryn twirls again and laughs past Floria. Knocking their shoulders, she resets her mike in a stand and breathes the lyrics slower.

_I_'_m so lonely_,_ that_'_s okay  
I shaved my head  
And I_'_m not sad  
And just maybe  
I_'_m to blame for all I_'_ve heard  
I'm not sure  
I_'_m so excited  
I can_'_t wait to meet you there  
And I don_'_t care  
I_'_m so horny_, _that_'_s okay  
My will is good_

Matt and Floria chorus backup with loud 'yeahs.' Bryn screams to their endings and stops to breathe while they're still going at it. She nods to their riffs and Steven's drumming, returning to her microphone with a speed that could kill.

Then she's staring at him again. At _him _like she did in that first-ever concert he saw her in.

_I like it I_'_m not gonna crack  
I miss you I_'_m not gonna crack  
I love you I_'_m not gonna crack  
I killed you I_'_m not gonna crack_

He notices how she leaves his eyes around the 'I love you.' It's not like he could say anything with her up there.

The song ends soon after with more yeahs and a finishing scream. They thank the crowd but even before they can get offstage, everyone's phones beep simultaneously. They all huddle over to Matt as he yanks his phone out to read what's happened.

He grabs his because of curiosity.

_Queen C just can_'_t leave the gossip to the experts_,_ can she_?_ I_'_d keep my mouth if I were you because I have more on you than you realize_._ For now_,_ I_'_ll fire a warning shot from one of Claire_'_s super_-_duper favorite minion_._ No names included_. _It_'_s not nice to spoil the good surprises_.

_Remember D_,_ everyone_?_ He went into seclusion soon after he and our queen separated_._ The answer to why that_'_s happened is because Queen C had a pregnancy scare from Brooklyn blood_. _Rocker B is a better friend than we think because she took the bullet and much less of a shame than A_'_s sex_-_life_.

_Send pics if you find Queen _C. _I_'_d love to see the embarrassment on her face_.

And before Javier can even see Claire, he realizes she's already gone.

**x**

Harper returns home before it even comes to puzzle his thoughts. He's heavily intoxicated and the carpet of his stairs spirals in an ocean of reds and purples. He demands for it to stop tilting the world but it doesn't and so, he yells rude words and kicks it.

How many steps are there? They're so long and swirly. They shouldn't be. Maybe he'd have an elevator built-in to speed everything up. Stupid stairs/steps/whatever-the-hell-they-were-supposed-to-be.

He trips and his arm impacts with the banister. He curses it, also, but uses it as a firepole as he drags himself onto the next floor carefully.

After he meets another carpet and notices the pretty patterns, he follows the trail of diamonds to Bryn's door and glares at a poster of some blonde chick with sunglasses. She was pretty hot – wait, that was a dude. Dudes shouldn't have long hair. It should be illegal. Stupid dudes.

Hysterics burst from his mouth as he enters her room and notices her blanketed bed, angry punk posters, a sex book on her desk. It was so weird but he wanted more. Something erratic to vein his energy and multiply it like a storm of rabbits. Something thrilling, something he knew Bryn had.

He searches her bedside drawers and finds a lighter. He holds it in shaky fists and also comes to discover a palette of tiny white sticks. They looked like candy cigarettes.

He bites one and gags. Nope. Not candy cigarettes.

Something tells him to light it and he does. A spark of sweetness fills the room and he puts it to his mouth, exhaling and inhaling the magic of it. Sweet and sticky like real candy.

Good. Adrenaline. It's like what the guys do.

He collapses in her bed and continues smoking, he chokes a little but eventually catches the hang of the gesture as he stares into the ceiling and hopes it doesn't tilt the world.

Sweetness. Relaxation. Empathy.

He was free.

**x**

**I hope everyone liked this chapter! I'm gonna try to do a coverage of fashion soon and thanks to GossipQueen101 for the Bryn/Javier scene at the bar. Big thanks for doing them justice.**

**Prepare for more insanity next!**


	24. Chapter 24

Kenny's mouth meets Bryn's with not so much of an innocent gentleness. He digs a hand in her hair and grabs her until they're closer. This is the moment. _This _is their time. No one could interrupt them and she'd make sure no one would even think to.

"I've longed for this, Bryn."

Her head snaps back in ecstasy and she inhales their love like second-nature. Her arms loop around his neck and she leans into his embrace, gasping for air as Kenny's mouth impacts on her throat and goes lower to her collarbone. Hearing him say beautiful things was like music to her ears. Just like the classic rock she loves.

"By fucking far, Kenny,"

His back strikes against the wall and they're readying their minds. Whatever's possible to not ignore at this moment of the only time they're able to secure together.

She fiddles with the buttons of his shirt and he goes for her jacket. They're almost there.

Stockings ripped halfway down her legs, collar on his shirt rumpled and torn. It reminds her of how she is. Broken.

He takes her mouth again in a kiss that could kill with only passion and his belt crashes onto the marble. The talking is done. It's only just begun.

_BANG BANG BANG _–

With a thump, a very-alone Bryn's back collides with the carpet of the main room and she's tangled in blankets she took from Harper's room. In her coffee-stained pajamas, hair disheveled not in a good way, and her clothes from yesterday smelling like vodka and soapsuds from the foam party after Rodney's.

She was still hurting. From all of the dancing to Deadmau5's hits, being showered in foam, and draining everyone's vodkas was the life of a punk-rocker. Kenny never called her like he promised and she couldn't care. She was the modern-day Joan Jett.

At least that was what her thoughts told her.

She unravels herself from the blankets and finds her cigarettes, a lighter. She lights one and lets it burn for a few moments before the banging of the door repeats. So _that_'_s _what woke her.

Bryn trudges slowly to the door and doesn't care to check who. Carefully unlocking it, she steps back to who came at this unearthly hour to torment her life. Tinsley.

Tinsley?

"Morning?" Bryn raises an eyebrow and comes to notice the wrinkles in Tinsley's clothes, the messy fashion of her hair, the redness of her face. She would laugh if she were more awake. "Something I should know about?"

"Just tell me where your brother is." Tinsley is expressionless at Bryn's surprise but Bryn steps aside and points around to where her room was. Even she knew when to shut her mouth when it was necessary. She'd never thought but maybe she'd be thankful after she finished ripping Harper a new-one.

Bryn holds the cigarette to her mouth and drags. "Just don't wreck my room," she commands simply. Tinsley's already shooting up the steps and she can only sigh. "Harper ripped the Duff McKagan poster off my door. It was one of his sexiest shots _and_ it was signed."

Tinsley's already at the top of the stairs and forms a tiny smile. "I'll make him pay for it."

"That's all I ask."

Bryn returns to the couch and wraps a blanket over her shoulders. She'd have to blast Metallica to block out the screams to come from her room. And not like the screams she wishes to do for Kenny.

Clicking on the TV, she sits and watches VH1 Classic until her Blackberry beeps.

Bryn opens it and notices a new text message. Everything in her immediately brightens in enthusiasm. Finally, Kenny actually chose to message her after all this time. She _missed _him.

But when she opens the message, her cheerfulness deflates.

It was from Steven, saying: _wanna chill at Matt_'_s_?_ I_'_ll come get u in thirty_

She looks back upstairs to where Tinsley and Harper had gone but hears nothing. Just like how Kenny left her. Feeling like nothing.

_I_'_d love to_!_ Call me when u_'_re outside_!

It'd be so much better to relax with friends before bumming out over her M.I.A boyfriend.

**X**

The tears leak freely from Claire's eyes as she chokes her duvet. A little sob resounds from her as she tries to figure out what exactly went wrong. Was there a third-party? Complications with their work schedules? Their love tanks running dry?

Who knows? They already had divorce papers on the table.

That mere thought forced more tears to her eyes. Divorce? What's divorce? What has it resorted people to? Broken people? Shattered minds? When people are saying their vows it should be _till divorce do you part_. It was just too much for her to intake.

Someone knocks on her bedroom door. "Clary, honey. May I come in?"

She doesn't even answer. Her father opens her door an inch before stepping in and shutting it. It barely took a blink of an eye to assess the anxiety fixed in his smile and the disfigurement of his Savile Row suit. Before she could even fight it, a trickling of tears gushed down her face and she sobbed like a child.

Her father approached her and slid a comfortable arm over her shoulders. "Don't cry, Clary," His smile becomes fleeting and he goes to wipe her tears. "what your mother and I are going through is only temporary. I swear on myself that this won't be forever."

She shakes her head and tears drip onto her palms. "Y-You shouldn't say that," she mumbles and struggles for air. "The Blackwells already lost their dad."

His smile quivers and he takes a hand to his premature gray hair. "Forgive me, then." His apology is so dull and unlike himself, she'd rather suffocate herself with a pillow than hear it. "This is a hard time for all of us but it'll become much easier, darling. This is only like an intermission."

She sniffles and wipes her eyes with her duvet. Not caring when the mascara inks the fabric. "Except I'm not having fun."

"Me either." He checks his Rolex and frowns. "I'm running late. We'll continue this next time, okay? I'll treat you to Kittichai. I know how you love their Thai curry."

It's been so long since they've been there. She's surprised he remembers that little tidbit about her. "Okay, sure,"

Her father exits her room swiftly. There's a shuffling of shoes and she's quiet until she hears the door slam and a new mewling of tears.

Carefully, Claire tiptoes from her room. Knotting the belt on her silk bathrobe and checking around the interior of her extravagant home. Tulips in china vases, famous Michelangelo paintings in the foyers, shiny chandeliers in the main rooms. It's all forgotten when she sees her mother on the couch, blotting her eyes with a tissue.

It's been such a long time since her heart's been broken. At this moment it happens before she knows it. "Mother?" Her voice doesn't even come out audible because her mother is still drying her eyes and rubbing her nose. "Mother, is everything alright?"

Her mother meets her eyes and nods like how she does with her friends when something's obviously wrong. "Yes, Clarissa. There's no need to fret." Claire waits for her to notice the mascara evident on her cheekbones. She doesn't. Maybe she just doesn't care. "What we're going through is just a mild conflict. I'm sure we'll be ourselves again when it's all over."

She finally understands what it means when people say they have a lump in their throat. "When the divorce is finalized?"

The older woman blinks timidly and snatches another tissue to blow her nose into. "That may take longer than I've hoped for," She exhales and covers her arms around herself. "I was talking about moving out of here."

"Wait. _What_?" The tears have returned without her realizing. "Da – Father never said anything about that!"

"He was always one to make me have to say the deal-breakers." Her mother rolls her eyes and acknowledges Claire's tears with a disappointed scowl. "Dry your tears, Clarissa. They're nothing but signs of weakness."

Something icy chills her bones. "Luciana knows best, doesn't she?"

The former's eyes narrow. No one has ever favored the Blackwells' mother. "She certainly does." Claire watches her take her Sidekick from the coffee table. "Maybe we'd be able to stay in Aunt Gwyneth's villa in Verona. I hear Juliet's balcony is gorgeous."

Her heart fades out of her. Moving? Leaving New York? Her friends? For _Italy_?

It just couldn't be.

She wants to cry but she can't.

Tears only meant weakness.

**X**

"A trim, please." Floria directs the receptionist at the desk of the new hair salon on her block. It was pretty nice if she did say so herself. Her friends have been commenting on their good service and how _dead_-_ass hot _the shampoo boys are. It made her feel like she was cheating on her frequent hairstylist. Just a trim wouldn't do either of them harm.

The receptionist directs her to the chairs and she heads over. Steals herself the current issue of _Rolling Stone _and flips through it. The bell on the door rings and she ignores it, just waiting for one of the hairstylists to appear and compliment her as they even do for her friends.

"It's so packed today. Thus, this makes me a prideful woman," Floria's heart leaps into her throat as she fights the urge to see who lingers at the counter. "Brooklyn is so distasteful. I only chose to have this location because of my husband. He simply adores the old restaurants here." She feels eyes – _her _eyes. "Who might we have today?"

Noisy platforms click over to her. Without further distractions from anything else, she looks to meet Coach Harmon's wife. Her hair in a ballet bun and wearing no makeup but only chandelier earrings and her wedding ring. Even without the makeup, her complexion was close to perfect. Something that not even facials could bring someone.

She hopes the woman can't hear her heartbeat. "Hi, Mrs. Harmon, I hope you're good."

"Call me Ruby." Ruby catches her eyes in the mirror and narrows hers as Floria drops her gaze. "I hadn't an idea that you frequent my shop. I would've definitely stopped by more often to see you. Floria, is it?"

Her embarrassment multiplies. Since when has Ruby known her name? She only just met her once before and had never gave out her name. Did the Coach tell her? Maybe so. She doesn't even know what to think anymore.

This being Ruby's business was a negative for her. Why did she have to choose the salon she owned? There wasn't any more awkwardness than that.

"Yes." Floria confirms and focuses on the stupid article in her hands. "Your place is really nice."

"I'd say so." Ruby smiles with the confidence only a married woman has. "Mind if I experiment with your hair? Your curls are absolutely flawless and I'd love to give you a trim on the house since this is the first time I've seen your cute self in _so _long."

Ruby calling her cute sounds like an insult. Like she's just some little girl compared to this big corporate entrepreneur woman.

It's as if she would've done it without her confirmation. Ruby rifles through her handbag and manages with a set of lavish hair clippers. She nonchalantly twirls Floria's curly ponytail and admires the midback length she had. It'd grown since earlier in the year and she was becoming accustomed to having it grown-out.

"Only a trim, though." Floria clarifies as she once again finds Ruby's eyes in the reflection. Her glare focuses on Floria's ponytail and this makes fear bloom from within her. The type that makes someone want to run and cower and never come haunt anyone again.

"Really? I find that not suiting you." Ruby snatches her ponytail and lops half of it off with a heart-stopping _snip_. Floria watches the hunk of curls flutter onto the tiles at her toes. "Short hair fits your face as it does Liza Minnelli. Judy Garland's daughter? Ah, forget it. You're too young but I won't dare give you that. Shoulder-length is good, yes?"

She probably wouldn't get a choice, anyway. "That's perfect."

Ruby gives her a horrifying smile but before she could continue to prod and chop Floria's hair, her phone begun to sing a Robin Thicke song and she went to retrieve her expensive phone from her dress pocket. Her entire form beamed and Ruby answered the call.

"Hello, Hunter!" Floria's heart returns to her throat. "No, I'm not doing anything important. I've made our reservations tonight in your favorite restaurant! Oh, yes. I can't wait either."

While Ruby walks into the lounge, Floria grabs her coat and with half of a ponytail, she hurries to hail a cab and go find some friends that could repair her massacred self and haircut.

**X**

Harper is met with a pillow to the face and an angry Tinsley. The two things he never figured that he'd have to deal with.

"Do you even _realize _what you've done?" Tinsley demands and his head throbs at the volume of her voice. He remembers all of the drinks he'd swigged yesterday and dancing to music he's never heard of. Those were his last memories of yesterday before everything went blank. Harper thinks to prod himself of something more but finds nothing. It must've been quite the night.

Tinsley looks disgusted. Something he never expected to see directed at him. "Do you even remember what happened last night?" He can only shake his head and shrug a shoulder. "Seriously? You're horrible."

"I only remember being at Rodney's after Claire called me saying it was an emergency." Harper explains and searches his filtered mind for more. "And taking that one shot with … oh. Oh, crap! Tyler!"

Tinsley nods and crosses her arms. She's still displeased at his late emotions. "My brother got home drunk on who-knows-what yesterday. He didn't even know who I was! Do you realize how sad that is to see your thirteen-year old brother _drunk_? How would you feel if Bryn came to you high –"

"Technically, she already has." Harper smiles and laughs wrongly. "Come on, Tinsley. I'm sorry. I didn't know what got into me. It was just a one-time situation."

"You're right it was." Tinsley nods and her eyes shift to his disheveled appearance. He doesn't look like himself and that furthers her revulsion. It made her sick how Bryn was fine with her brother drinking and doing whatever else in a cheap underground club. "This also means you'll no longer be around my brother. Not as long as you're like this."

He can't help it. He laughs. "Tinsley, really? I just said it was an accident and you're still acting like this? What really is wrong with you?"

"A lot, apparently." Her eyes are narrow and unforgiving. "Especially if I chose to date you."

Harper finally frowns and she notices how delayed he is today. Usually, he's never like this and is always prepared to fight for what he wants. What she sees here, a monster of hate drugs and unkempt everything. This wasn't the Harper she fell for. This is a ruin of her old herself but in his form.

It makes her feel so repulsed.

"I guess so but that's more your fault." He raises his hands in a shrug and when he goes to straighten himself against the bedframe, he cringes and groans something of pain. Clutches his knee and reels back in Bryn's bed.

She waits for his quirky response but only sees him shut his eyes and try to minimize the pain within his leg by massaging circles around it. He catches her gaze and suddenly she sees her Harper again.

"Let me see." she instructs and gestures the blankets aside to see his bad knee. Before she can control herself, she flinches as if she were struck by lightning. _That_ wasn't healthy. Those deep purple bruises like he accidentally dropped a hammer on himself. It just wasn't normal. "Harper, that needs to be checked out, like, right now."

Harper cradles his injured leg and rubs it carefully. The poised face and jutted mouth makes him look like Bryn. "I thought you were angry with me."

"I am." As if her anger was never broken, she's close to fuming again but softens at his injury. "Please just get that checked. That isn't normal … all of that makes you look alienated and especially since it's really affecting you physically. Please just be careful, I don't want anything happening to you."

He slides both of his feet on the carpet, his legs not even balancing on them. "It'll be fine." he assures and uncuffs his pant leg to hide the damage. "Some strain won't do me any permanent damage. The coach always tells us to work harder."

"There's a difference between working hard and completely exhausting yourself."

"I don't overwork myself. I'm more than prepared to give it care."

Tinsley's eyes are still dark like Bryn's when she's angry. "I'm sure you aren't with everything on your lacrosse plate."

"Can we not talk about this?" Harper attempts to comb his fingers through his hair but only worsens the messiness, which he doesn't seem to notice. "I'll take care of it. I don't need any additional stress right now on my state of being." He unlocks the door and it creaks open, he pops his head out to look around before maneuvering into the halls.

He clamps a hand on the doorjamb and manages something that isn't a Harper-smile. "Tell Tyler I'm sorry."

She has to ask. She doesn't even know what to think any more about this. "Where are you going?"

"To take a shower. I smell like pot."

Strike #3 on her list of Harper troubles: he didn't even bother to hide the admittance of his voice. This wasn't her Harper at all.

This was wrong.

**X**

"I'm really sorry, Miss Officer." The day after a party in an underground club in Manhattan, Lorena was called to arrest two drunk-and-disorderly teens. Girls close in age to her son. The other was unconscious and taken into custody. The one she was left with had sobered enough to claim her innocence and was sitting in the backseat in handcuffs. It was better than having to use force. As much as she liked her job, she'd rather not have to fight with kids. "Like, I'm ultra-sorry but I am _not_ drunk."

Lorena rolls her eyes and leans against the car-door. "Do you even know where you are, Natasha?"

The tiny teen blinks and raises her hands to hold her face. "Manhattan?"

"Well, yes." Lorena looks around for street names and boulevards. Finding no signs, she contemplates calling her subordinates but thinks not to. "Fine, we're in Manhattan." She unclips the walkie-talkie from her belt and clicks it on. "Nell, where are you? Where are you?"

_Coming _'_round_,_ Lorena_.

"Think you can take the drunk schoolgirl to the precinct? She's heavily intoxicated and is need of a desperate phone-call and a shower."

Chuckles, jingle of keys. _I_'_ll be there in a few_.

When she returns to meet Natasha's eyes, she finds her glaring and pouting. "I am not drunk."

"Listen, you really need to quit that." Lorena commands and the girl huffs like a disappointed toddler. She can't help but roll her eyes again and wait for Nell, glaring at the streets through her aviators and looking for anything strange. Which isn't exactly new around here but anything 'particularly' is now enlisted as a crime.

She loves her job. She wouldn't be Officer Stradlin without it. Yes, at times, she does wish she had more time off and didn't have to always be temporarily on-duty when she's not. Matt already doesn't see his father. She could allow herself when he's nearly all he has.

Her fingers shiver. _All he has_.

From a distance, someone slams their car shut and the street-vendors aggressive words give her a headache. It must just be the work-stress. That's it. Work-stress.

Lorena sighs and snatches her walkie-talkie off her belt too roughly. It clatters onto the concrete and she groans but before she goes to get it, someone has it before she does.

Mr. Perfect AKA Nick Lösenberg.

"Oh, Nick. How ever did you find me?" Lorena snatches her communicator from him. "I thought you fired your PI after we divorced!"

"I called your job." She's surprised at his effort but doesn't say more. "I really needed to talk to you and they've said you were on Lexington. It's not much of a challenge to find a cop around here."

Natasha gasps dramatically at Lorena. "You're a cop?"

Nick laughs, Lorena glares. "I sure hope so."

"Oh, wow." The younger girl slouches in her seat. "That's very surprising."

Lorena turns from her and reattaches the walkie-talkie to her waist. "Ignore her. What'd you want, anyway?"

"Matthew admitted to wanting nothing to do with me." Nick's gaze is like usual again. Purely professional. "How do you expect me to react to something like that?"

"You've brought this on." she repeats for what feels like the hundredth time. Nick always comes to her, expecting her to use Mother Magic and repair the broken bond he has with their son. As much as she's tried to help, Matt is hell-bent on his choices. She's useless when arguing with him about Nick. "I've told you year-and-year again to go to his shows, recitals, birthdays. Every response I've got from you was in an email and not even in a phone-call to your son asking, 'Oh, can we hang out another day?' Don't blame Matt for giving up. I would too. Fuck, I did when I divorced you. You're hopeless."

Nick sighs in exhaustion and she can see her former-husband in it. She can see the Nick that would come home and fall asleep on the couch after long hours in NYU, the man that would always take his son to Central Park and throw a baseball around until the sun was gone, the man who'd take her to see The White Stripes and not complain when she fawned over Jack White.

That was her husband. This was not.

"You're right but at least I try." His declaration is unlike anything he's ever said in a long time. "I've always tried to have my son and wife back."

"A week must be so long in your terms." Saying something cruel has come as a reflex to her in this current time. "I'll give you two weeks before you give up again and drown yourself back in work and freaking out my kid."

Her kid. She says it like Matthew is only hers. He's his, too. It makes him angry but he knows better than to start with Lorena when she's working. Especially when she has a gun on her.

"He's mine, too. He always has been." A superb ring gleams on his fingers as he holds his chin. Something that he must've brought with his huge salary. It made her sick again.

She looks for words but cuts herself off to relax her temples. Maybe Nell had Advil in his car.

"Is everything alright?" he asks and she holds her forehead to meet his concerned gaze. "You haven't been yourself lately."

"Neither have you." she grumbles. "It's probably just the weather. Or work."

"You need to be careful." he warns and gives her that look he'd begun doing after she left the hospital with a newborn Matt. The critical anxiousness that was able to cut through her so easily back then. "Just please don't overextend yourself, Lorena. I really don't want another call from Lenox-Hill."

"I'll do my best." Lorena vows and is unsure of her own promise. She watches Nell's patrol car come from the distance and gestures for a drowsy Natasha. "If my day isn't as complicated, I'll try to call you later."

"You do that." Nick leans back and smiles nicely in her weary eyes. "Get rest, too."

She salutes him as he leaves. It was nice to see her do that because she only does for people she respects.

**X**

"Where's your coat, dude?" Bryn says as she leaves the mansion and meets Steven by the gates. He was wearing a plaid shirt with torn cuffs and rugged jeans with his favorite Vans. It wasn't exactly cold outside but was windy and she was shivering even in her maroon trench. "It's like the Ice Age out here."

"Seeing as I biked here, I get pretty hot easily." He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively before laughing off, directing to his orange bike chained to a telephone pole. "I'm still working on getting that new used car. Cheap income is a bitch for sure."

Bryn heads over to unchain and steady his bike. "Shotgun is _so _mine." He holds the bike as she props herself into the basket after unlocking it, returning to stare at him. "I can always help you with the down payment on that car you want."

He laughs dismally. "No, you won't."

"Come on, don't you really want that car?" she taunts willfully as Steven steers them onto the street. The mansion getting further off as she swings her legs around. "It's better than getting helmet hair from your gross helmet."

Steven turns a block. "I don't always get helmet hair."

"I'm sure you don't." She startles as the bike hits a street bump and takes it as her karma to stop. "Just … you know, I'm here if you need anything. Anything at all."

He laughs and she can feel his hot breath on the back of her neck. "I love you too, Bryn."

"Yeah, we so need to stop this conversation because I'm gonna start getting emotional." They laugh together and she smiles at him. "How was yesterday after the foam party? I saw you leave with some Julianne Hough-lookalike."

"_Oh_, Linda," He smiles in remembrance. "She was a damn good lay."

"I could've gone my whole life without knowing that." Bryn remarks but with a smile that could easily outwit his. "She must've been your best for you to tell me. No one ever shares their sex life with me for very good reasons."

"If I remember correctly, I always told you the deets about Matt after he banged Tracy."

"The 'deets' I've never wanted to know."

Steven grins. "Secretly, you did."

Bryn laughs as if to end their conversation. "What's with the sex talk today? This is getting weird."

"Since when have our conversations ever been remotely normal?" he jokes and carefully steers onto the sidewalk past tourists intrigued by everything around them. "Anyway, how's it been with Kenny? I never hear you talking about him or really seeing you guys together for that matter. It's like he just disappears off the face of the world over the weekends."

"He really does." she agrees sullenly. "I never thought I'd meet a guy that cock-blocks himself from me. That shouldn't even be legal."

"Let's buy him a chastity belt off Amazon." He backs off at Bryn's crude glare and laughs until her anger diminishes. "I know, I know! Low blow. It's true, though. He needs to get some real soon."

She hates to laugh but can't help to. "If he ever comes for some."

"Rhyming now, Blackwell? Never thought I'd hear of the day when you switch from rock to rap."

They laugh together again and she punches his arm from behind her. "Can we make a cupcake stop or something? All of this talk is getting me hungry."

Steven snorts and makes a detour halfway from Matt's house. "Hungry for something you can't have?"

"What?"

"Oh, nothing."

**X**

"You're only eleven minutes late this time. Good." Elle slings her arms around Javier's neck and leans into him for a kiss that doesn't bring fireworks but lust for more. Really something that didn't exactly mean anything to them. "How are you? It's been so long since we've interacted so civilly."

Javier nods in agreement and tentatively meets her kiss. "Better than before," he replies earnestly and pulls her into him. One hand on her waist, the other locked in her lush curls. "Claire's initiation event was a failure with the exception of my friends' performance." It feels weird to say _friends_. "Our local gossip blogger basically revealed that she'd just had a pregnancy scare. She ran out before anyone could find her and has been on lockdown in her place since."

"Mm, what luck. Poor Clarissa." Elle's statement isn't close to gentle. "On the day of her bash? She certainly got her just desserts." She answers his questionable glare before words can chance her. "And, no, I didn't have part in that. I'd be basking in margarita glory if I did. I praise whoever did though."

Javier raises an eyebrow but doesn't interrogate her further. "She really needs to learn how to keep her personal matters hidden in this city."

"I doubt that's even possible." she assures him with her own risen brow. "So I've heard, at least."

"True." There isn't exactly use of fighting with reality. "You apparently know enough of my day. I hope yours wasn't as terrible as mine."

Elle smiles severely and kneads her hands in his hair. "Usual, darling," She talks like a professional probably does. He doesn't like how she considers him a child and would rather stay home with a book than go to a normal party. She must still be against Bryn and Kenny. He wouldn't bring anything up what could be used against him.

Spoken like a true professional.

"My only highlight of yesterday was going with Kenny for a Pinkberry break. Or rather I went and he locked himself in his chambers until I brought something home. He's still considerably angry with me over that scene in Manhattan's favorite dingy club." she proclaims and looks away from him to notice Kenny's empty room. He went off for lunch alone again. "He's too dramatic for his own good."

"An old breakup does that to you." Neither of them elaborate further. "Shouldn't he be with his girlfriend?"

Elle shrugs, something not like herself. "Not my problem." She goes for another kiss and finally they find their loveless passion. Tongues battling like warriors, mouths seemingly unbreakable as he undoes the tiny buttons of her appropriately short dress. She forces off his blazer and tie, hearing them fall onto the hardwood as she leads them into her bedroom. They remain kissing and she moans against him. Collapsing onto her bed, he stops halfway to find a glimpse of a familiar name on her dresser and shutdowns to stare.

"Elle, what's that?"

"Hmm?" She doesn't even look up.

He squints at the folder and discovers the name _Brynna_. A pile of paperwork peeping from inside as he looks over her to see it. Not seeing what anything was saying but only finding it labeled as Blackwell. "Really? What is that?"

She finally realizes what he's noticed and grabs his face to force their gaze. "Ignore it, darling. It's nothing important. Absolutely nothing." _Just like her_.

But it's only in her thoughts and despite him not hearing, she smirks through their next kiss.

**X**

"Never thought I'd see you hungover, Blackwell," Chad gives Harper an acute onceover as they sit on the benches with their Vitamin Waters and lacrosse sticks. Harper's eyes are considerably bloodshot and his posture is tired. Not to mention the knee injury he still hadn't gotten examined. "What's up? Rough night with your girl? Forget a date? She break up with you?"

Harper sighs exhaustedly. "Not everything always revolves around a girl in my life."

Chad snorts rudely. It reminds Harper of why he doesn't really have friends. "That's bogus," He cocks a remindful eyebrow. "according to those gossip sites. They be saying that you guys have the best sex since Pamela and Tommy Lee."

It's better not to answer. No one would even think to consider Chad's demeanor.

He sips his Vitamin Water and waits to be called. The coach was late and the other guys were practicing with the opposite team. A teacher came onto the field to say the coach wouldn't be coming for another thirty minutes because of family issues. His team was already making bets to see who'd divorce each other first. Many of them already put money on his crazy wife.

"I just need a break," Harper says to himself in a sleepy mumble. He's sure Chad is smiling but he couldn't care. "I haven't relaxed in so long."

Chad is quiet and Harper meets his gaze nervously to find him fumbling with his jacket. The purple knee throbs a warning and he looks around for someone. Half-expecting the coach to appear from behind him and usher them onto the field.

No one's there. No one's staring at him.

Hangovers aren't fun.

Chad plants a tiny tablet in his gloved palm before he knows it. Harper squints at it and touches the surface thoughtfully. It looked so harmless and normal. He remembers who Chad was in that next second and locks the pill in his fist.

Eyebrows risen, mouth curled in a scowl. "What is this?"

"It should help you relax." is all Chad says with a defensive smile. "Don't worry, bro! I'm not trying to poison you. I take it all the time when I'm feeling off and it should help work on that fucked leg of yours."

"It's not –"

Chad chuckles before he can hear his defense. "That's what all the crazies say. Just take it before you get an earful from Coach Harmon."

Harper swallows it without thinking. Gulps water and feels a strange coolness sink down his throat. Expecting something else, he blinks and gives Chad a look. "Nothing happened."

"Well, duh!" Chad claps Harper's shoulders dumbly. "Not even sleeping pills work right away. Give it, like, thirty-five minutes and you'll be back to normal. Or at least what you call normal."

Chad ups and leaves without waiting for a response and Harper suddenly comes to realize something after the pill-consumption. It was only one.

What's the worst one can do?

**X**

"You shouldn't let Bryn cut your hair. She barely knows how to do her own."

Bryn tosses a cupcake wrapper in Matt's direction as he sits on his couch with a Sprinkles box and a blanket over his shoulders. Steven is beside him and flicking between Mob Wives and a rerun of That '70s Show. Floria sat before Bryn as she prodded her curls with kitchen scissors.

Floria sympathetically smiles at Bryn. "Please don't cut that much off. The other woman practically shaved my head."

"Gonna give you the Britney Spears, huh?" Steven switches back to VH1 and a particularly-silent Matt manages a smile. "No comment, Matthew? It's weird to not have you slam my jokes."

Matt grins wryly, his eyebrows knitted in fake sadness. "Lost my voice," His words are hoarse and broken. "All da screaming from yesterday's performance wore me out and the … karaoke."

"That was hysterical. You can't sing Michael Jackson songs for your life." Floria laughs as Bryn cuts an inch of curls. She holds a fistful of Floria's curls in her grip and begins to trim daintily. Little tufts trembling onto the carpet. "You really murdered 'Dirty Diana' out there."

Steven starts to laugh as Matt grins but looks away. "I so wish I was there now."

"Where were you?" Floria asks in surprise.

"He was smashing Linda." Matt croaks out weak laughs and Floria goes to join him as Steven fake-glares at Bryn. "He had one hell of a night, apparently."

"Linda? Who the hell is she?" Matt demands in his littlest tone. Floria laughs with her head down as not to hurt his feelings. As if he'd get angry anyway.

"Brooklyn sex machine. Blonde hair, tan skin, stars tattooed on her legs."

An imaginary lightbulb flashes in Floria's head. "Isn't she homeless?"

With the exception of Steven, they all laugh screamingly. Steven yells nonsense against their laughter and collapses against Matt in pretend-agony.

"You definitely picked a good one, Steven."

"I hope you stole her free coffee."

Steven rolls his eyes as usual. "Haters."

Matt gives him a look that doesn't perceive as well because of his bloodshot eyes and raspy voice. "Because I _so _can't afford my own coffee."

"I would've asked if I knew you really needed it," Steven smirks at Matt's eye-roll and frown. "Next time, I'll work on getting the grinds."

Floria giggles as Bryn chops another lock beside her chin. "I doubt there'll be a next time."

"Exactly," Bryn agrees with a smirk that fits her usual self. "Really, though, tell me. How exactly did your hair just get wrecked? You're never drunk so don't use that excuse. That only accounts for the guys because it's pretty much their doctor's notes."

"Neither of us drink that much." Matt speaks for him and Steven. "And Steven's not exactly allowed to because of that huge drama in the hospital."

Floria shrugs and what remains of her curls bounce around. "So you weren't drunk yesterday?"

"Drunk off life," Steven fills in.

Bryn rolls her gaze over Steven and the curls scattered across the floor. "I'm sure you were." she says to Matt, who gives her one his infamous eye-rolls. "Flor, I made your hair into a masterpiece. You look so Madonna."

Steven flips back to That '70s Show without looking at them. "That doesn't exactly sound promising."

Matt snorts as Bryn points the finger in his direction before rummaging through her pockets. She pulls out a handheld mirror and hands it to Floria, who gulps and prays for empathy. Already imaging what Bryn's done and how she'd need to wear a wig for the remainder of their senior year –

"Wow." she breathes in complete shock when observing the sleek cut. The length of her ringlets were about a quarter of an inch above her collarbone, her bangs thankfully not ruined were only slung over her eyes. The guys left her and pursued their own conversation as Bryn gives her a proud smirk. "This is _really_ good."

Bryn gives her shoulder a slight shove. "Stop that," Her tone is teasing and friendly as it always is when they're all together. "I already have a payment in mind for that haircut."

Her determination was too desperate. "Anything."

It's hard to ignore the challenge in Bryn's eyes. "I won't stop until I have an answer but tell me _why _your hair was butchered."

"Later?"

"Later."

**X**

"Don't you think Victoria Beckham looks absolutely perfect in _Vogue_, Claire?"

Claire barely gives the article Baby was pointing out to her a second glance. She was too busy in her thoughts as it is. Moving to Italy and leaving her clique to another was a horror that not even Tim Burton could conceive.

It still burned her chest to think her parents were really divorcing. She hadn't told anyone and couldn't even think to share her own problems with someone else. The backlash from her peers would be endless and she'd much rather just keep her family affairs under the rug before having to explain herself to her people.

"Is something wrong, Claire?" Baby's eyes widen innocently and she twirls dark strands across her fingers. A nervous habit she'd have to drop if she expected to become queen after Claire graduated. "I hope you don't regret choosing me as your understudy. You've just been awfully silent since everything."

Her definition of everything was after Claire's huge bash from before. Their own gossip blogger brought her pregnancy scare to light. She'd forgotten all about the challenge she assigned the trainees and ran to the restroom to cry. Baby found her minutes later with mascara splashed on her cheeks and tissues wadded in her fists. She couldn't care about anymore gossip or newsfeeds or even Dean as she sobbed stupidly. Baby stayed through it all and took her for virgin drinks after she redid her makeup.

That was when Claire chose her. Neither of them screamed with glee but only clinked their glasses ceremoniously. It hadn't turned out to be a festive night in the end but was promising.

It was the best night she had in so long.

"Not at all," her heart answers in substitute of her brain. "I've just had a lot on my mind."

Baby's eyebrows knit together in concern. "It's because of your final year in Constance, right?"

"That's part of it." she assures and busies herself with the dull design of her skirt. "There's so much that runs wild through my life. Being queen isn't exactly the easiest of sports."

Baby's eyes gleam with the hope only a child could have. "You're just so perfect that no one would even realize a flaw. You'd be able to put a real queen to shame."

Claire smiles finely and feels loosened at the compliment. Usually pep talk isn't her thing but if it applies to her, it was a simple kind of nice. From everything she's received. The Harper breakup so many years ago, Tinsley taking him next and ignoring her every second, Bryn becoming colder, and she left to talk to the Brooklynites. It's all become surreal.

"Thanks, Baby." She figured something in those seconds. "You're quite the friend."

Friends. It was a real word.

**X**

"Ruby, we need to talk about this later. My team still isn't entirely prepped for the game and we're already going out today against a new team." Hunter gazes around the field quizzically as Chad shoots the ball towards a sluggish Harper. "I know, I _know_. Goodbye, Ruby. I'll see you at home."

He clicks off his Bluetooth before he's left to hear anymore and holds his head. Snatching the Gatorade from beside his jacket and swigging it. Life was complicated, too complicated.

Only twenty-seven and his wife was already threatening to divorce him. Bringing fake allegations of infidelity to the surface of their crumbled relationship and attempting to steal what he had. Despite her own businesses, she tells him she'd fight for spousal support if the time did come.

He hopes it doesn't. His funds wouldn't be able to survive the blow.

Not that he doesn't – or didn't – care for his wife. She's just become so paranoid and brutal that he's unable to act like a good husband. The husband he's always tried to be for his short years of marriage.

Impossible. People would be so ashamed. If Ruby got her way, the headlines would read _ST. JUDE'S COACH JILTS WIFE FOR SCHOOLGIRL_.

Only him vs. Treacherous Wife #1

There wouldn't be any way to turn this around. He couldn't fight her if he tried. She had all of his financial and emotional windfalls blocked. She'd definitely learn how to break his windfall. Indefinitely was more of the word.

"Coach Harmon?" one of his boys scrambles over to him. Eyes wide behind protective mask and lacrosse pole clutched like a torch. "Harper isn't exactly actin' normal."

"How so?" the mask-clad only points and he directs him off for a water-break.

He doesn't want to look but he does. His boys surround Harper as he's laid in the grass, sloped against the ground in weepy hysterics. The opposite team and the coach are giving him uncertain looks, already off the field and watching him from a good distance.

The people in the bleachers are spreading rumors. His humiliation is rising.

Hunter blows his whistle and gestures a time-out. Enters the field and stands over Harper, who doesn't even appear to care that he's about to get benched for the season. Harper finally meets his outraged gaze and collapses into harder chuckles.

"Get up, Harper," he sneers and indicates him to stand. Harper doesn't and drops his lacrosse stick in his bout of hysteria. Against better odds, he snags Harper into a standing position and drags him towards the benches. Swinging him into a seat as someone restarts the game. "What the hell is wrong with you? Do you _realize _how stupid you look right now? Well? Answer me!"

"S-Sorry, Coach," Harper mumbles in an obviously unapologetic voice, undoes his lacrosse mask and tosses it onto the grass. His face is sweaty and his eyes are too wide for himself. "It's just I so can't take today serious! Too much has happened! And I'm hungover, too! Woo! What a _bonus_!"

Hunter gives him a hard stare. "I figured."

"I think I am so much calmer. Much calmer like by a quadruple amount of something," Harper wipes sweat off his face with his gloves. "You don't look it, though. Somethin' happened? Did you and your wife finally divorce or what?"

This definitely wasn't the Harper he knew. He was drunk on something illegal. "What are you on, son?"

Harper shrugs like it's supposedly normal. "A teeny tab. Something orange … or was it blue? I dunno. It was just so good and I am so loosened up now!"

Ah, ecstasy. The dopey smile and dilated pupils said it all.

"Go home, Harper." He's delivering a surprisingly normal punishment for his drugged co-captain. "You're high as a kite. Chad will take today's game."

"But I'm captain!" Harper squelches childishly and tries to stand but collapses back on the bench. "I'm _captain_, Coach Harmon!"

"Leave right now or be benched for the remainder of the season," he commands with a glare that silences Harper for a few moments. "Do you hear me? Do you understand? Either way, you will not be here while I am. Leave right now or face the penalty, son."

Harper looks down at his hands. "I dunno what happened."

"Me neither," the coach admits. "me neither, kid."

**X**

"Why are you here?"

Elle's in the shower and Javier is redoing his tie in the kitchen when he finds Kenny standing in the doorway with one bag of groceries and a folder. Eyes murderously dark as he never looks away from Javier after dropping the groceries at his feet.

"Why are you here?" Kenny demands again and doesn't even add the usual _Mind telling me _that he always hears him use with strangers. "In my kitchen getting dressed while my sister is occupied. You're mad but I suppose that's old news to you especially since you had my girlfriend investigated."

"What are you –" Javier doesn't continue when Kenny flips the folder to view. Labeled _Brynna Blackwell _with a multitude of documents kicked out. "Are you kidding? I didn't do that. I saw that before I … did anything with Elle."

Kenny doesn't even look remotely close to forgiving. "Don't you dare blame my sister because of your own burdens. I never thought to think that you'd use your fortunes to spite Bryn."

"Seriously? What motive would I need to track your girlfriend? I already know everything I need to know about her. There is no need for meet to stalk her when I'm dating someone already."

"I smell a fine case of bullshit."

"Fine, ignore the truth. Just know I was trying to explain something rational to you, Kenneth."

Kenny rolls his eyes rudely and it doesn't faze Javier that he doesn't take him seriously. He was only a child compared to him. Just a fathomless child. "Next time, don't lie through your teeth when approaching me with a reason. Or _my _girlfriend. We have better matters to worry about."

"Because fake pregnancies and guitar 'lessons' are so important to you."

"More than you'd realize." The shower twists off and Kenny's expression morphs from hate to mild anger. It was weird how easily he was able to do that. Like it was all planned out. It probably was.

Kenny steps in and thrusts the folder into his chest. His reflex is to grab it and he gets a cold grip over it, doesn't even attempt to ignore the glare Kenny was delivering. The stony iciness that could kill with the blink of an eye.

"Burn this." It's a command. "Or I burn you."

He slams out the door and leaves Javier standing there. It's been awhile since someone has thrown him into shock and actually made him fear for his life.

Too long. Just too long.

He needed to talk to Bryn.

_J getting his ass handed to him by K_. _Don't be scared_,_ J_._ He looks harmless_.

**X**

**I hope you all like today's chapter. Thanks so much for the consideration and the alert/favorites. This wouldn't be possible without any of you.**


	25. Chapter 25

Blue lacquered nails click across a desk surface. "Tinsley, your time is ticking." The silence feels like an eternity as the woman grabs the work phone beside her computer, fingers at the ready on the keypad as she prepares to redial her intern's number _again_.

Suddenly the glass doors burst open and a frazzled golden head follows in with about three shopping bags dangling from one elbow, a steaming tray of Starbucks coffee in their free hand. The woman leaves her desk with a sigh, helping the weary blonde with the bags. She doesn't even pretend to be sympathetic.

"Can you be any later? This is a very important thing to me and it'd please me if you weren't so late all the time, I'd rather not risk my job because of your screw-ups." She snatches the tray of coffees away. "Is that comprehendible? Do you understand, Miss Hastings?"

Tinsley nods timidly. As much as she hated to be scolded, she'd much rather not lose her job by talking back to her superior especially since she was so close to the fashion world here. She could already envision her picture in _Vanity Fair_'_s _party pages and receiving awards from Heidi Klum and Sarah Jessica Parker.

This treatment was only temporary. And that was a promise of truth.

"I'm sorry, Poppy," Tinsley apologizes as she tries to catch her breath. "The traffic outside was endless and there was a never-ending line in Starbucks. Honestly, I thought I'd never –"

Poppy narrows her eyes. That look can make anyone quiet. "You should know better." Her blunt glare directs to Tinsley's coat. It was lightweight and since the weather has become less cold, she's begun to dress lighter. "Take your coat off and stay awhile, won't you? The office doesn't carry the same cold feel as it does outside. February is a beautiful month but I'd say the weather isn't." Her venomous voice suggests otherwise.

Tinsley sheds her coat and hangs it in the closet behind her desk. The editor-in-chief of Rogue hasn't been in for a while because of problems overseas with their current centerfold model. Something inane like rumored drug use during her teen years. Her lawyers heavily denied it but the answer was in her starry gaze.

They sat in the silence for a few minutes. Poppy typing furiously, glaring at her computer screen; Tinsley taking calls and asking to take the occasional message or two. They were almost a team together.

When the phone chimes again, Poppy reads the number and races to answer it. She nods along to every word and curses under her breath when the call has ended. "Damn publicists," And she grabs her coffee and swigs it selflessly.

She can't help but be concerned. "Is something wrong?"

Poppy snaps over to her, eyes broad and fierce. "Whatever gave you that idea, Tinsley? I've been spewing rainbows and sunshine all day." She slumps into her desk chair and leans across her keyboard, sighing into her hands. Her voice is muffled but still severe in her misfortune. "It's that publicist's fault, I swear. Mrs. Whitaker is going to _kill _me."

Something must've gone wrong with the upcoming fashion show. It was scheduled for Valentine's Day and the front row was already filled with celebrities alike. Mrs. Whitaker – the editor-in-chief – would be in attendance, of course. They could easily get seats filled but their lead performer for the runway wasn't someone who cared about a measly fashion show.

It wasn't too hard to connect the dots. "Did … the performer cancel?"

Poppy can only nod her answer.

Tinsley holds her chin and uses the silence to think. She knew plenty of musicians in need of gigs. It wasn't much of an effort to think of them. Flesh-and-blood teens that fought for the spotlight and a cheap paycheck to make ends meet. Rodney's was a sanctuary and she had met many in it.

Who comes to mind is one of her old friends. He was a selfless musician that dressed like a refined punk and hid his heart under coatings of darkness and stony emotions. Dedication was the key and he did more to abuse its power.

"I have someone." Tinsley concludes as Poppy raises her head from her hands, unsure. "His name is Matthew Stradlin and he's more than just some trashy Pete Wentz wannabe. His music is far better than the world and his voice is enough to show you."

Then she's staring into Poppy's depthless gaze and waiting. The clock must've stopped or bust as Poppy sighs as if it's her final choice, wringing her fingers.

"If he's just some cookie-cutter pop star –"

"He is definitely not." Tinsley interrupts icily just as she remembers Poppy is her boss. "I can show you his music now –" She reads the time on the clock and literally flinches. "Later, I mean! Crap! I'm going to be so late for school!"

She grabs her coat and schoolbag hastily before hurrying for the door.

"I'll hold your career to it." is the last thing she hears Poppy say before she has reached the hallways. "Remember that, Miss Hastings."

And Tinsley knows well that she's not lying.

**X**

_Knock knock knock_.

"I'm gonna kill him."

Bryn presses an ear to the door of Javier's suite and tries to listen in. She only heard the murmur of a television and imagined it to be white noise. As much as she wanted to scream and bang on the door, she'd rather not be considered a jealous ex-girlfriend or be arrested for disturbing the peace.

Peace was very important to her and she would definitely not watch casually if some psycho exe screamed outside _her_ door.

Javier had called her yesterday and asked her to meet him before school at his place. The tone of his voice was enough to make her say yes. And maybe it was the influence of the hard vodka she drank straight from the bottle. Rock gods are best known for drinking and not controlling their intake. Her icons were more important to her than religion.

The relaxation was much needed since Kenny had his phone off as she rang him about a dozen times. Worry was only a distraction to her life.

Maybe he was hungover or tired from something. He hadn't been texting or calling her since she'd last seen him. If it kept on like this she'd definitely have to step in and confront him. What made her sad was how she got more calls from Javier than she did him.

Her sex drive was beginning to suffer more than her heart. It was terrible. She'd already had another sexual dream about him and he'd been serenading her with Coldplay's 'Paradise.' She had woken up the next morning to realize it was only her iPod rerunning her _Rock 2012 _playlist. Romance was a failure in her mind's eye.

_Knock knock knock_. "Tick, tock, Javier,"

No answer.

"Joni Mitchell lived an easier life than this."

She whips out her BlackBerry and texts _answer ur goddamn door! _and watches it send. Watching paint dry was more entertaining.

"Would you like some help?"

Bryn startles back and against Javier's door. A man, presumably twenty-five, stands before her with his hands tucked in his pants pockets. He wore a clean-cut dress shirt with the first few buttons undone, a blazer held in the crook of his elbow beside a small white box, black leather Ferragamos. Blonde hair that was nearly brown, smooth jawline, hazel eyes that veered close to green. The Spanish baritone wasn't missed on her either.

For once, she's wordless. Not even a nod would leave her. The sex withdrawal must be doing something to her.

The man goes for another question. A smirk crosses his mouth as he gives her a quick onceover. "Is he your _novio_, sweetheart?"

"Um, no," Bryn chokes to answer despite not knowing what _novio _means. "We're just friends, dude."

He nods upward and watches the door for a while. "Isn't that how it all starts?"

Bryn arches an eyebrow at him. "Excuse me?"

Then the support of the door abandons her and she is stumbling back. Someone catches her shoulders and holds her safe. The heat of their fingers is peculiarly rigid and defensive. Their cologne of cigarettes and rich champagne and aftershave is distinguishable anywhere.

"Alec." The greeting is cold. "What do you want?"

Alec exhales slowly but his smirk doesn't diminish. "Just came to deliver a package to you, brother o' mine." Javier leans over her and accepts the white box. "Souvenir from our parents. Mom says Barcelona isn't the same without you and I'd agree but I see you already have your hands full, don't you?"

Javier grits his teeth, eyes narrow in the foyer light. "Goodbye, Alec."

"Enjoy Manhattan, _hermanito_,"

Alec leaves without further struggle. He bids farewell with a suggestive smile to Bryn and disappears into the maze of hallways with a jump to his step.

Once he's gone, Javier shuts the door and sets the deadbolt. The darkness in his eyes has weakened. "Are you okay? He didn't hurt you, did he?"

Bryn shakes her head and tucks a free strand of dark hair behind one ear. She had caught onto their family tiff quickly. "I'm pretty sure your brother won't risk that."

"You'd be surprised. Irritating people closest to me has become a sport of his." he says and takes hold of her elbow, strong but not unbearable. "But he doesn't matter. I have something to show you that's much more important than my brother."

She twists away once in distance of the couches but doesn't sit. "Unless it's Dave Navarro or one of the sold-out Lollapalooza tickets, I think I'll be fine."

"Don't be so sure."

Javier saunters off and surveys the mess of schoolbooks and coffee mugs on the kitchen table. He manages with a file that didn't exactly look school-related. Something in red was inked across the front.

She squinted to read it before realizing what it was. "Javier, seriously –"

He hands it to her before she can enquire any further. The _Brynna Blackwell _file was heavy in her hands. "Don't even finish that. I found this in Elle's room when I was there last –" Bryn rolls her eyes. "I barely even touched it. I'd rather get it to you before Kenneth had a chance with it." He just couldn't bring himself to mention that Kenneth had gotten to it before him. It was too much of a touchy subject at the moment.

"I doubt he'd even care. Don't you think I would've been with him right now?" Her hand skims across the multitude of documents. "I haven't seen him in, like, a decade. It doesn't really matter on either of our sides."

Javier's glare slashes through her like a laser. "He's an idiot for not being around for you."

"You're not the first person to tell me that." There's not even a hesitation. "No wonder you're such good friends with Matt and Steven."

"So it seems my charm doesn't only work on you."

Bryn laughs. The cloudiness of her gaze has melted. "Who says it works on me?"

He smirks again. "You're here, aren't you?"

"I don't see you getting anywhere," She leans back on the couch's armrest and keeps a steady hold around the folder. "Should I call Elle? Maybe she'll satisfy you more than I can."

"Seeing you here will probably just piss her off so I doubt it." The expanse between them no longer feels like anything. It was like that something that should be significant.

Her BlackBerry beeps before she can speak and she jumps for it, flinging it open, reading the screen. "_Shit_. I gotta go now. See you in school –" She tucks the folder underneath her arm but stares at him for a moment too long. Then she parts the distance between them, goes on her tiptoes, and pecks his cheek – ironically close to his mouth like in Rodney's. Her kiss is a sweet sting. "– and don't let your brother bother you, okay? Learn from me."

Javier's absolutely quiet and her smirk says something about that but she doesn't utter a word. All he hears left of her is the knocking of her boot buckles in the stairwell. It's probably the only thing he's allowed to do in this day.

Being friends is hard.

**X**

"Look it's my daddy's sanctuary," Matt says with dull smugness, hand held out to the tall structure of St. Jude's. "Isn't it magnificent, Mom?"

"Expanding your vocabulary, I see," Lorena shifts the car into _park _and watches uniformed schoolboys head into the building. "Would you like to join your fellow peers? I'm sure they'd love for you to trail their footsteps." This was a sarcasm-bathed joke. At her poised eyebrow, Matt laughed, twisting back against the passenger seat.

Throat choked with laughter, green eyes bright. "Half of those assholes hate me. My other friends are already inside or late. It's like death to be outside in this cold."

Lorena raises an eyebrow, head lounged against the armrest. "Is it now?" Her gaze falls to his shirt sleeves pushed to his elbows. Blazer tucked beside his backpack, a band patch stitched to the sleeve. "I'd say you're dressed otherwise."

The days where Nick does see his son in the halls dressed like a gutter punk, she never hears the end of it but there's nothing she could do to control him. It's not like he ever got in serious trouble with the law because that would be the only time she'd need to intervene. Adding Matt's mug shot to the pictures on her desk wasn't exactly a good thought.

"The school is crazy hot," Matt answers, turning toward the school to look for his friends. They could catch a smoke in the bathroom before the bell rang. "and the house is freezing like a meat fridge because of your menopausal self. Nowhere is safe in my world. You'll be watching CNN and I'll be found dead in a ditch because 'I go against the cycle.'"

"Menopausal," Lorena rolls her eyes. "How old you think I am?"

Matt grins. It looks nothing like Nick and she realizes it's not an often thing. "Old enough. I guess you only look the way you do because of work."

"Well compared to many of the other parents, I _am_ pretty young. I've never had cosmetic surgery or that Botox shit or anything. My face is perfectly real compared to that old-ass Guns N' Roses frontman." she admits with both eyebrows raised craftily. "Top that, Little M,"

Her son cringes dramatically. "The dreads and liposuction did Axl bad."

"Hard to imagine he was once a sexy serpentine, huh?" Somehow that made her think of Nick and how handsome he was when they were younger. Endless paychecks and the best compliments from his partners made him too arrogant, self-centered. She missed the man that would avoid fistfights and had only risked arrest once when one of his friends made her cry while she was five-months pregnant.

And she isn't exactly an emotional person. Tears had only accumulated in her during pregnancy and when she filed for divorce from Nick after an estimated six years. No one was really surprised. Her mother had been relieved, Matt hadn't known until she was changing the locks on the house.

Divorce isn't an easy thing. It scared her and lingered around her heart like a demon curse for months. Graduating from police academy had been her only redemption. Nick had conjured some excuse about board meetings and she couldn't care. Becoming part of the NYPD was always her dream.

It came true but not all of her wishes had ever become realistic.

Lorena sighs, checks the time on the radio. "Honey, you need to get to class before the doors lock."

Matt raises an eyebrow as a smirk swings onto his face. "Since when do you call me honey?" Then his eyes widen as does his skepticism. "Is everything cool?"

"Like always," Her stomach churns sorely. She shoves his arm and unlocks his door. "Come on, get out now. I don't like gettin' the bull from your father."

He scoffs but doesn't oblige. "Whatever you say, Mom," Matt pries open his door and steps out with his book bag already in hand. "See you later?"

"I'll call you when I leave the precinct. Love you." She watches her child until he goes inside and starts the car, listening to the engine rumble on before she steers onto the road.

Her eyes burn with tears once she reaches the red light but she blinks them off like she should.

Not all dreams are how they should be.

**X  
**

"Your hair … you cut it."

Floria awkwardly touches her shortened curls as Hunter acknowledges them. She had just been passing through the lacrosse field – _ironically_ – and found him already there alone. His hair pomaded underneath his baseball cap, wearing a corduroy blazer with dark jeans, a whistle dangling from his collarbone. She couldn't pinpoint his age but he looked in his early twenties.

"Yeah, well, more like your wife cut it." she says with little malice. It wasn't his fault he had a psycho wife. Well, kinda. "She's a devil with hair shears."

Hunter seemed to get more of a joke out of that than she. "You have no idea." He twirls his fingers through the whistle chain around his neck. "Don't tell me, she all but dragged you into a salon chair and begun to shave your head?"

Her eyes narrow as she stares him down. It wasn't easy to do that with a teacher. "I'm glad I amuse you."

"You have no idea." He stares into the distance of concrete pavements and newly bare winter trees. Maybe he was expecting Ruby again. Or she'd been making one of her surprise appearances. Either way she'd rather not be around to see her extreme positivity. "I highly doubt she'll show up today. Very busy with her desired hair salon and worker boys."

She rolls her eyes and scuffs the toes of her moccasins in the dirt. "Lucky you,"

"Is that meant to be a jab?" His smile is infectious and his eyes shine like hazel-blue garden flowers in the weak sunlight. "Against me and my crazy wife? I'd say _ooh _but it doesn't really hurt."

That remark comes to shock her. She'd always expected something of the sort but would never really accuse Hunter of not liking his wife. People get married for love most of the time.

"Well, you're married for a reason." Floria mutters, twisting a curl around her index finger. Old habits die hard.

Hunter retreats to the benches and she finds herself tracing his footsteps, watching him as he retrieves a bottle of Vitamin Water out of his messenger bag. He juggles the bottle between both hands. "_Well_, darling –"

"Don't call me that. I _have _a name and I'm not a kid."

She can see him regain his smile even though his expression suggest otherwise. It's a nice picture. Him in a baseball cap and jacket, her in a school skirt and a feather pin in her curls. Fairytales are for losers but this was still wrong.

"Marriages aren't always built with true love and affection. Mine was at first but it definitely developed into something else. Something unhappy and meaningless. I've seen marital affairs with more love than my relationship with Ruby." He unscrews the cap off his bottle and swigs as if it's a well-earned substance. "It isn't exactly something you discuss with children."

Her eyes narrow piercingly in a glare that is augmented in the morning light. "I wouldn't be talking since you're only really five years older."

Hunter rolls his eyes and he looks barely older than her with that. "Yeah, sure," Silence fills the mildly warm air. "We unfortunately have at least a nine-year difference."

She laughs. "Unfortunately?"

"Yes." The silence has returned and she can nearly feel the truth in his voice. "It basically means I can't kiss you."

It feels as if her heart has stopped and she only knows it has restarted because of its quickness. She wonders if the blood has come to her cheeks as her face tingles like it's been engulfed in a bonfire. Her thoughts repeated: _Hunter_'_s married_, _he has a wife_, _she_'_ll hurt you_.

Her heart was her current ruler. "I wish you could."

His smile grows sad. "Me too. If it were only easy, Floria, you have no idea." Diana Ross croons in the background and he leaves her gaze, digs through his bag and finds his cell phone. His gaze dawdles specifically on the screen before he timidly reaches her eyes.

"If it's your wife, just answer." Her throat feels raw as if scrubbed clean with a wire brush. "I don't want you to get in any more trouble than you already are."

Hunter accepts the call with her resignation and steps into the grass playfield. His words are too high, forced happiness evident in his speech. When he talks, he doesn't smile like he does with her or the lacrosse boys.

She barely even knew him but she could already tell his marriage was dead.

So she leaves the field with the sole promise of a possible kiss.

Only her thoughts begged for it to happen.

On the outside, she was a rock-solid bassist with the coolness of Bon Jovi's _Slippery When Wet_.

That's how it should be.

**X**

"What _is_ wrong with you, Elle?"

Elle jumps at the iciness in Kenny's tone. He stands in the doorway of her bedroom, clad in his school uniform with pointy pins jammed into his sleeves, gel-spiked hair nearly glossy in the light. The look he gives her is one that she is beginning to be accustomed to.

"Nothing at all," she says breezily, combing her curls neatly into a ponytail. "I've only been trying to ready myself with the L'Ecole girls for our charity field hockey game against Constance Billard. Is that so much?"

Kenny's eyes darken and narrow. "I was talking about having Bryn investigated. Our family PI is only needed in the case of emergencies and last time I checked my girlfriend isn't exactly a criminal."

"I doubt you even know what she is. Kenneth, she's a _Blackwell_." There was no use in denying the accusation now. After Javier left, she realized Bryn's folder was missing and only thought she misplaced it. Kenny probably took it with him and burned it before she had a chance to prod through the documents. Damn, she was so close. "We cannot trust the Blackwells. Their father died from drugs, their mother married a young man, and do _not _get me started on the twins."

"That's none of your business," he snaps and clutches the doorframe in a hand of blue-veined knuckles. She could see him quivering from across the room. "Respect my girlfriend and she shall do the same."

Elle observes her makeup in the vanity mirror. She'd gone home for lunch and Kenny hadn't even gone to school at all. School absences were casual in his view. Their father luckily didn't know about any of their dilemmas.

"I doubt she'd ever respect me. What, dear brother? Do you plan on marrying her? Vegas drive-ins are so _chic _nowadays." She may've sounded like a resentful sister but would rather be that before her brother's girlfriend intrudes in her life any longer.

Kenny removes himself from the door and ambles into the kitchen. She follows him and leans against one of their blue marble counters. He explores the objects in the fridge before fetching a bottle of San Pellegrino for himself, forcing off the cap and relishing a good mouthful.

"You'll be missing your head if you keep meddling in people's business," he snaps and she realizes that _people_ is referring to him. The threat didn't mean much to her because she'd heard her fair share of them from him. "So bug off. Or I will take action meself."

Her smile was toxic. "I'd love to see you try."

She knew she was asking for it but it's become a bit of entertainment to watch him struggle with his emotions. He didn't know how to care for a relationship and she could already predict how his with Bryn's would end.

It was like a school test she already knew the answers on.

"Watch me." He grabbed his backpack and tucked the bottle in – she doubted he planned on going to school – and strolled past her, purposely bumping his shoulder with hers and not watching as she staggered into the hard edge of the counter.

The vodka on his breath was unmistakable.

"Wait until I'm meself again, I shall show you the true wrath of a blood-born Cullen," His back is turned and his shoulders are arched stiff, exhales tough and short. "Just you wait, just you fuckin' wait,"

The door slams and the hinges squeak in protest.

She sighs, toys with her ponytail.

"Try not to get too drunk, won't you?" Her voice polite and society-like as she returns to her room.

**X**

_Divorce drama is an ugly thing_,_ isn_'_t it_? _Daddy might be moving out this week BTW_._ Love u_!

Claire rolls her eyes. Her mother never had the brain cells to care about her opinion.

She was working through the middle of her third class – Economics – and the teacher was discussing their current lesson, jotting quick notes on the board. Her minions paid good attention like obedient dogs as they wrote their own notices and exchanged the chance word or two.

They'd definitely share their notes with her later. And she had a photogenic memory so she really had nothing to worry about. Add that to her transcript, why don't you?

All she was really stressed over was her parents' separation. Their penthouse was slowly filling with businesspeople and someone she recognized as her father's attorney came to talk with her mother about their prenup. Apparently her mother was fighting for spousal support.

It made her sick to her gut. Her mother would definitely abuse those outflows while she escaped to the comfort of fancy Tuscan villas and Sicilian wine that she'd brew herself. It sounded like heaven but it was the opposite in Claire's reality.

Manhattan had grown to become her home and the thought of leaving it felt like the end of an era. She had absolutely everything she needed. No one could take it away from her but it was apparent that her mother was trying to.

She still had her father. He promised to take care of her and never leave her without a home. That was what responsible fathers do. Not like Jackson Blackwell, who deserted Bryn and Harper and left them with only a trust fund and the expenses fully paid on their mansion.

They hadn't turned out any good. She didn't want to be like them. Her family mattered to her.

Out of boredom, Claire types a reply to her mother: _divorce precautions are a must_, _aren_'_t they_?

She watches the teacher ask questions to the girls who weren't paying any mind. Her minions giggle as another girl fumbles to answer. They blamed it on those sexual fantasy books she often read. Fifty Shades of Grey was for people who'll die virgins.

It made her shudder that her mother had already purchased it on her Kindle.

After a few minutes, her phone buzzes a reply from MOMMY DEAREST: _of course_. _I_'_m already anticipating Aunt Gwyneth_'_s brownstone_. _Fingers crossed_!

Ugh, everything was happening too soon. Her life couldn't be zooming by any faster.

_Can_'_t wait_!is what she responds with.

Her father would know what to do.

Another text interjects through her thoughts and she immediately sours as she assumes it to be from her mother but instead finds a glowing message from Baby, reading: _there_'_s gonna b a crazy party soon_,_ u in_?

Beer pong and keg stands were the first things to swim through her thoughts.

_Strip poker isn_'_t my thing_.

She can nearly imagine the exclamation points in Baby's words as this is received – _it_'_s not at all like that but it_'_s a private party n u can b my plus 1_!_ I_'_ll get u the address l8r n the date soon_!

Claire smiles to herself for the first time in a while. Despite everything, all of her problems and faults.

Maybe saving her family drama for later was better.

It seemed to work for Demi Moore.

**X**

Floria stares deeply into the sign-up sheet for a charity field hockey game. To be coached by _Hunter Harmon_. A number of Yale transcript-hopefuls had already written their names. She recognized only about two of her friends' names before separating the pen from the clipboard, drumming it on the white paper.

An arm curves around her waist. "Hey, aren't you Coach Harmon's mistress?"

Her breath hitches until she realizes who it is. "I hate you," she proclaims as she shoves Bryn off her, who stumbles against the lockers in a fit of laughter. "What're you even doing in school? You skipped, like, every class today."

Bryn raises an eyebrow and angles her head to read the charity game list. "I like learning,"

"You like learning things that don't have to do with school," Floria rereads the column and is surprised to not find Claire's name. Maybe she hadn't had the chance to notice it yet. "But, really, were you with Javier all day? I haven't seen you until now."

"For like ten minutes before school, _mia amore_." Bryn admits drily, rolling her eyes. "I don't get my work done that fast. Why are you even standing around a school paper? Did you get detention community service or what?"

She moves aside to show Bryn. "I was considering signing up for the charity function thing. Kick some ass, get to trip people with a hockey stick and not get in trouble, have guys go crazy over me in a super-short skirt. I want people to remember me and I'd die to change school history. Plus, it'll be great for our transcripts."

"I honestly don't know how we're friends. You're so normal." Bryn smiles as she takes the pen from Floria's hand, twirling it between her fingers like she does with guitar picks. "I'd much rather watch on the bleachers but if you're doing it, count me in." She leans in close to the sheet and scrawls both their names down. "Sure hope I spelt your last name right."

A smile bloomed across Floria's lips. She didn't. "Good enough."

Bryn grabs Floria's elbow and forcefully links it with her own. The caffeine she drank an hour ago was clear in her gaze. "C'mon, dude! Let's go meet the guys! They'll be _stoked _to hear our news!"

Floria only lets the smaller girl drag her along. It's not like she could fight her either way. "If Coach Harmon will take our inexperienced selves."

"No comment."

They laugh. "At least I finally got you to shut up."

Bryn rolls her eyes as they burst through the Constance doors and into the daylight. "Please, Flor. Not even Kenny can do that."

**X**

"Tim Dávila?"

"Here, Coach Harmon!"

"William Howard Marshall?"

"Also here, sir!"

"Chadwick Prescott?"

Some of the lacrosse boys' chuckle as Chad raises his hand, ugly smirk reaching his eyes. "Right here, Coach Harmon."

Hunter reviews the attendance sheet for the lacrosse team and realizes he has come to the name he's hoped not to. He squints among the men and raises the brim of his hat faintly. "Harper Blackwell? Has anyone seen Harper today?"

Tim nudges Chad's shoulder with his own. "He's probably rolling around in some rich dude's lawn."

The entire team explodes into hysterical laughter, cracking jokes about what happened on the field when a not-sober Harper laughed and writhed across the grass. Luckily the bleachers weren't quite full that day or Harper would never be recruited for a good college team like he wanted.

"Maybe he's skippin' practice to do some more dope!" another boy shouts through the mob. "That ecstasy was the highlight of his life! His sis got good dealers!"

Chad arches back against the cool metal of the dugout chairs. "I'm waiting for him to show his face. Bastard won't know what hit him."

Hunter narrows his eyes and looks his chin down at Chad. High school boys never changed. "You won't know what hit you either especially when you're benched for the next game, Prescott."

The team dramatically _ooh _and flood the area with another assault of jeers. Chad glares at him but doesn't retort against his supervisor. That could allow him the maximum of five quiet minutes from Chad.

Then he directs them all onto the field for a practice game. They wouldn't be having a match against another school until March came into focus. The weather would be nicer and they'd have more time to train and not stress about when they'd be up against another team.

Chad divides them all into teams. Their one missing link was Harper. Usually Harper headed the other team as they played. He was probably recovering from his hangover somewhere.

"Coach Harmon!"

Hunter turns to see Harper hobbling toward him, dragging his lacrosse stick and already in-uniform. Underneath his protective kneepad was an abnormal purple bruise. His hair was mussed, Band-Aids marked a few of his fingers, and a shaving cut was distinct on his chin.

He was thankfully sober.

"Harper," the coach greets slowly. "How are you, son?"

"I've been better but I'm good, thanks." Harper looks into the field to watch his teammates. "Did I miss something important?"

"Everyone's practicing." Hunter uses his sneaker to point to Harper's bruised purple leg. It didn't look like something he could be on the team with. "What happened there?"

Harper laughs uncomfortably, nuzzles his fingers in his hair. "I tripped down the stairs in my house. No big deal. I took something for it."

Hunter looks quizzical. All he kept remembering was that drug-addled trance he had on the field. "And what is that?"

"Um, Demerol," The answer is smooth, truthful. Not like Ruby. "Can I go out now?"

"In the next game, I'm sure they're almost finished." Hunter's phone buzzed with a call. He already knew it would be Ruby and he struggled to not answer it. "Careful on that leg, alright?"

Harper nods.

_Hours ago in the Blackwell Mansion_, _his bruised knee had been troubling him_. _He considered calling the family doctor but didn_'_t really want to cause any trouble_. _They_'_d only prescript him extreme pain medications_. _That was how people died_.

_Tinsley hadn_'_t called him since she came to yell at him about Tyler_. _It_'_s not like he could blame her_. _If someone took Bryn and got her drunk_, _he_'_d be_ _raging_ … _for about an hour_.

_All he wanted to do was have a break_. _People had been yelling at him and always expecting him to be someone else_. _That bout of ecstasy may not have been on purpose but it had been good to calm him nerves_.

_He needed something else to ease him_.

_So he searched through Bryn_'_s room_. _Desperate_, _as he threw aside notebooks and guitar picks and CD packages_, _ransacked her desk and vanity until he found a little bottle of pills_. _They were named Demerol_.

_He only took two to be safe_.

_To be the opposite of his father_.

No one will ever compare him to the dead Jackson Blackwell again. He was different, stronger.

He'd be fine.

**X**

"I don't like golf. It's just putting balls into holes." Javier and Matt each give Steven a look of question as he blinks before realizing what he said. "Oh, I just caught that! Ha ha, gross!"

Matt grabs his backpack and slides a copy of the monthly _Revolver _out. He turns to Javier blankly, eyes narrow behind his wide black aviators. "See? _That_ is why I don't have many friends."

Steven thumps Matt's back, who glares back at his friend as he practically throws him off-balance. "Please, Matthew! You practically scare everyone that crosses you! The lacrosse guys are literally shaking when they lock eyes with you."

"Okay, well, that's different." Matt objects, flipping through the magazine but not looking through it. "They're just not … pleasant."

Javier raises an eyebrow and the February breeze upsets the bare trees. "Isn't Harper on the lacrosse team?"

"Yeah," Steven nods. "We're not exactly his favorite people."

Despite not knowing them well enough, Javier looked offended as if they had personally insulted him. "And why is that? You're better family to Bryn than he is."

"True." Matt nods in his direction. "But he thinks we've 'corrupted' her because of how she acts now. Fuck 'em. He's a little bitch anyway."

Steven laughs. "Nice language you got there."

"I never really thought Harper to be –"

"A dick? People can surprise you."

Steven flashes his gaze in Matt's direction, eyebrows cocked. "You know a lot about people surprising you, don't 'cha?"

Javier raises an eyebrow. He's learnt his way around them.

It sounded colder than it should have but Matt didn't really take offense to it. Or if it did, his face didn't show any real emotion. "Having my head forced underwater really thought me a thing or two about that," He climbs to his feet and dusts off the knees of his pants. "I have to meet someone."

"See ya later, Matt," Steven says nonchalantly. Javier bids a friendlier goodbye. "He'll be fine. The past is hard for him to talk about. There's a reason he's the rock of our group."

"Seems hard to compare to him."

And it's as if the conversation had never existed. Steven is already beaming. "It sure is."

**X**

_i got the news_!

_Wat could u ever b talkin bout_?

_The party_!_ DUH Queen C_!

Claire still wasn't fully satisfied with being someone's 'plus one' but she'd have to deal for the time-being. _When is it_? _Tell me that u at least hav the address_

_Ummm not yet but i have the date_!

Her revulsion grows. _what kind of _'_party_'_ is this_?

_A GUD ONE_!

The terrible spelling almost disgusted her as much as Baby's supposed idea of a high-society event. _It better b or prepare urself to lose ur status and social life_.

_Its planned 4 next Friday_ … _I_'_ll keep u posted_

Next Friday was the day of the charity field hockey game. She considered both options before sticking to the idea of fun. Fun was what she needed after all of this time.

Skipping one school thing wouldn't be so bad.

**X**

"_Down_, _high_, _low_, _the world_, _my eyes are closed_ / _I_'_m Superman and it_'_s my show_," Matt sings, eyes roving across the empty space of the Music Room. She had videotaped him with her phone while he wasn't looking. He would've had her neck if he caught her filming him. It always made him feel awkward. "_One shoe_, _two_, _gonna kick with my new shoes_ / _I_'_m gonna kick until I need new shoes_,"

He hadn't been moving but he was still smiling, overflowing with charisma and pride. He continued on crooning, voice deep and intense like a pluck of guitar strings. Anyone could easily be drawn to his presence.

It was unreal how his voice was. It was ugly and beautiful at the same time. Imperfect, surreal, unlike any other yet so flawless in more than one way.

She _loved _it.

His eyes are sharp and his smile is genuine. There's nothing better than that.

"He's okay," Poppy says as she pauses the video halfway through the song. Matt is frozen on the screen. "You'll have to show him to Mrs. Whitaker. I'm not exactly the judge on these things."

Was than an invitation to show Matt's makeshift demo to their supervisor? It made her heart swell with pride as Tinsley took her laptop back but doesn't take the fuzzy video off her screen. Maybe she could get a nicer recording of him.

"He's more than okay, he's _great_." Tinsley gripes, fingers on her laptop keyboard. "His talent is unexplainable. You have no idea."

Poppy grabs for her notepad and a pen but she doesn't write. "Well, he's definitely cute but he looks like he could dress better." She doesn't seem pleased at his rumpled shirt and scuffed boots. "Boots like those don't go for anyone."

Tinsley nods, an almost grimace. He had them forever. "Trust me, I know."

"It never hurts to agree." The phone rings and Poppy grabs for it, talking, nodding, listening. "Okay, I will tell her you called –" She smiles in secret to herself. "Yet again,"

Tinsley stares at her for a few extra seconds and Poppy meets her eyes, terrible and dreadful just like Vena's. "What are you staring at? Get back to work _now_."

_Your wish is my command_, Tinsley thinks as she returns to her laptop and plugs in her earbuds, only keeping one in her ear for the sake of the work phones as she listens to the sweet murmur of Matt's voice.

Not even Poppy could bother her when it came to the purity of good music.

And nothing could ever come between it.

**X**

"He smiled with his teeth here." Matt points to a photo on the kitchen counter of his apartment. The picture was taken beside a Central Park fountain. A teen boy is centered beside the marble structure. Nothing looked pretentious about him. His emotions and smiles were entirely real. Eyes masked by gray aviators, the slope of his nose slightly crooked, dark hair flipped across his forehead. The teeth of his grin were his only flaw – tinted yellow from drug abuse. "He got one of them knocked out, you know."

Bryn grabs the picture off the surface, staring at it hard. Her voice is not surprised. "Don't tell me you went to see him."

Matt glares at her and holds his fists closed. "I could never forget the person that tried to drown me," he growls, his gaze fixed on her turned back. "Reese's ex-girlfriend told me. Someone jumped him. Knocked one of his front teeth out, broke his hip. He supposedly limps now."

It was tough to imagine David not looking the same. She had gotten little detail since he's been gone and hoped it'd stay that way. "He was never a sweet guy."

"Of course, I know that." Matt says with a typical roll of his eyes. "But knowing him –"

Bryn scowls at him and returns the photo to her file. "Bullshit. No one knew him."

"He was my best friend before all of this and you know that," he reminds her venomously since the _best friends _thing no longer mattered. "And don't even give me that look. I said before this … or rather before his so-called 'illness' was brought to light."

Her glare doesn't deteriorate. "Stupidity isn't an illness."

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. He was only _sixteen_, Bryn. Remember half the shit that we never told our families? I doubt he would've ever told us even if we asked. He was so timid before and never even liked to ask us for bus money or insult people even when they were complete assholes to him. That was the David we knew ..." Matt turns his eyes to the empty white sky. "I wouldn't have thought he'd be in a crazy house today."

Bryn's glare is softer but her mouth is poised tight. "He didn't even know he was sick. All that pot did it to him. You know why he never asked for bus money? Because he'd get high with his drug buddies and that _bitch _he cheated on me with. We have to say that he's smart. _Remember _when he said he was going to the bookstore to work? He was puking his teeth into trashcans. _Remember_ when he asked you to hang out by the Central Park fountain aft –"

Matt's whole body stiffens and he meets her glare head-on. "Continue that and I'm leaving."

"Now, you know how it feels," she breathes and regards the file like an unread book. As much as she liked to do more investigating, she'd rather not see what else was said about David. "He brought everything on to himself."

"You're right," he finally agrees. "But it's not over."

"Sadly, it never is." Bryn takes a pause. "Sometimes I wish I never met him."

"He used to be good when we were kids and always promised to never let drugs get in the way. How times have changed, right? Dirty bastard tricked me." Matt shakes his head in disgust. "He was one of my first _best _friends. Look what he's done to her, look what's happened to us."

"Her? Who, Meg? She got what was coming to her." Bryn shrugs and goes over to Matt's fridge. She finds two sample bottles of Smirnoff and throws him one. "And we are just fine. David is someone that needs to be worried about and he has people to do that for him."

Matt uncaps the small white bottle and drinks. The rush made him a little dizzy. "Lucky him."

"It's always been his life's dream. Those chicks are gettin' paid to be around him though. If only we were, right?" She is almost finished with her bottle as she clinks her fingernails against the glass. Lorena would kill him if she saw them like this.

He tries to forget. Forgetting is good. "What should we drink to? Sorrow? Caution? Broken hearts?"

"How about love caution? Be cautious around it. You can never really trust anyone." She drops her glance to the speckled green kitchen tiles. "So true, so true,"

Matt nods. It really was. He isn't one for agreeing but that statement did something to him.

He clinks his bottle to hers vacantly. "To being careful with love. That counts with Kenny."

"I'll be fine. You stick to using condoms. I doubt we can drink with kids around."

He makes a face. "Cheers."

Ignoring their sorrows was easy. Forgetting them was hard.

They both knew that and they both had to work on that.

**X**

**I'm so incredibly sorry for the wait! This chapter was pretty tough for me and I had rewritten it a while ago because I didn't really like the way my first draft was. I hope this one's better and makes up for the long wait.**

**I promise I'll try to update sooner. The next few chapters will be better.**

**Cheers!**


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